


Against the Machine

by FaithfulWhispers



Category: Invader Zim
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Character development to come, Drama, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Manipulation, Eventual ZaDf, Fantasy, Gen, Implied/Referenced Mind Control, Rebellion, Science Fiction, Self-Discovery, Some angst, Zim is done being a joke, not beta read we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-01-21 13:07:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 34,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21299942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaithfulWhispers/pseuds/FaithfulWhispers
Summary: All Zim ever wanted was to be recognized and receive approval from his leaders. However, after his brilliant new plan went up in smoke, he was confronted with the harsh reality of his mission. The Almighty Tallests had finally told him the truth, causing him to have a complete meltdown. In the aftermath, Zim was faced with a choice: resign to exile, or to take a stand?
Relationships: No romantic pairings
Comments: 67
Kudos: 288





	1. The Shocking Truth

Zim stood at attention, his eyes focused on the two large figures displayed on the main monitor. He waited for a brief moment, then gulped down a large breath and pointed to his newest invention. It was a grey, block-like machine with a red satellite dish hovering over a model city.

"My Tallest, as you see here, I have my best plan yet."

"Looks like garbage to me," Purple scoffed.

Red shook his head. "Also Zim, we were in the middle of something quite important."

"More important than the highly secret mission that you bestowed upon me?"

Purple chuckled. Red, on the other hand, cringed. Their joke on the ex-invader was starting to get old...

Rubbing his temple, the crimson irken was ready to bring the call to a close. "Yes, it was of great urgency. We simply don't have the time to-"

"Oh, this won't take more than just a moment!"

"Okay, then show us, but be quick about it." Purple commanded through a mouthful of his doughnut. This only caused Red to sigh.

"Right! Well this over here is a model of the pathetic city I'm currently stationed near.” Zim scampered over towards the machine. “And this is my brilliant, newest invention. Observe.”

Then he lifted a small controller in his hand and promptly flicked the switch. A low hum vibrated through the air, followed by a flash of blue light. In a mere second, the model was reduced to the size of a quarter.

Red raised his brow in skepticism. “So you made a shrink ray? What are you going to do with it, shrink the planet?”

"Oh, of course not, that’d make the planet useless. I’m merely going to shrink all of the humans and the cities they inhabit. Then squash them like the insects they are!”

Looking rather pleased with himself, Zim flashed a huge grin “I plan on giving you two front row seats to the destruction of humanity through a special broadcast.”

Tallest Purple’s left eye twitched in disbelief. “Wait, wait… so you’re just going to stomp on and squish everything? That sounds… amusing…”

“And dumb,” Red whispered to Purple, before turning his attention back to Zim. “Well anyways, good work, Invader. We have important business to get back to, so we will be contacting you when we’re ready for this, uh, show.”

“Yes, my Tallest!”

❖❖❖

A week had passed since Zim’s last transmission with his leaders. He remained at his post, eager for their call to arrive. Although, as the hours droned on, his patience wore thinner and thinner until his shoulders finally slumped in defeat.

“It probably slipped their minds. They do have busy schedules as the Tallest, after all,” He shrugged. “I will give them a call to remind them that their entertainment awaits.”

He started typing away at his console, but then paused. If he was really going to go through with the plan _ now _, there were things that needed to be attended to. Stepping away from the controls, he turned to his little minions, GIR and Minimoose.

“You two, go distract the Dib. Keep him away from the city at all costs. Make him think we’re going to go blow up a volcano or something.”

GIR bounced around Zim, screeching his little robot brain off. “Oh, I’m going to stuff that volcano full of rubber piggies! They’re gonna’ taste soooooo good.”

“Neh!” Minimoose affirmed.

“Yes, yes. Very good. Just, before you go, make sure you did what I asked with the cruiser,” he shoved a pointed finger between GIR’s eyes. ”And stay away from that explosive goop you spilled all over the bay floor earlier.”

The robot’s lights flashed red. “Yes, Sir!”

Zim watched as GIR grabbed Minimoose and jetted his way up the elevator. He only prayed that the moose could keep that robot in check. He would not have the smelly human child be a thorn in his side.

Not today of all days.

He smirked at imagination of what his rival’s face would look like when Dib found his beloved, awful city in little pieces. It would be so delightful to see him cry. The smirk grew into a wide grin before he maniacally cackled. His laughter grew louder as he turned back to the console to begin preparing.

Even GIR couldn’t mess up attaching the ray to the bottom of the cruiser, it was the easiest task he had given the robot that day. So all Zim had to do was activate the remote software for the ray to be deployed when he was ready.

Then the next thing on his list was to notify The Tallests. His laughter came to a halt as he checked his uniform and the room behind him. Nothing was out of line, which was surprising, since his base was always a mess.

“Computer, call the Tallest.”

“Calling the Tallest,” it echoed back. “Call declined.”

“Hmmm, that’s not right. They were expecting to hear from me.”

“The connection was definitely blocked. And Sir, are you _ sure _about that?”

“Don’t you snark me. Call them again,” He commanded, placing claws on his hips.

If the computer had eyes, it would have rolled them. “Call declined. Again.”

“Oh fine, I guess I’ll just leave them a message. They can tune into the broadcast when they’re ready,” Zim sighed as he proceeded to work with the controls. It was time to initiate the plan. “Now, connect to Irk. You know what to do.”

“Uh, whatever you say. Connecting to Irk’s Telecommunication Network...”

❖❖❖

The Tallest could only stare at the scene displayed before them in pure horror. They were in the middle of a very important call with the ambassador of Junt, but a sharp familiar shrill filled the deck, interrupting all negotiations. The next thing they knew, every other screen had the same image of the small laughing irken on display. Zim’s insufferable voice grated on Purples nerves, while Red wanted to scream.

Of all the times for Zim to be a menace, it had to be now.

The cackling grew more and more obnoxious until a loud boom thundered. Suddenly, the images shifted to what looked like an outdated Voot Runner exploding from the inside-out. A rain of pink little creatures fell from the blast.

Zim’s wailing followed, “Not rubber piggies! Curse you, GIR!”

A small snicker sounded from behind, bringing the two leaders back to focus. Right, they had been in the middle of a call.

“You there, terminate that broadcast, and I want it done _ now _!” Purple commanded. “I will throw you all out of the airlock if you don’t get moving!”

Red left it to Purple to get a handle on the situation while he turned his attention to the other screen to do some damage control. The yellow alien folded his tentacles smugly across his torso.

“Ambassador Xun’ tok, I apologize. It seems someone decided to air the comedy program a tad too early--”

“Oh, save it, Red. I’ve heard many stories about that little drone, and honestly, I’m a bit disappointed.” He paused, glancing up and down at the leader before him. “I was hoping to see the real strength of your empire. The deal sounded so promising, but now, I would rather not waste Urth-ogg’s time with--”

“Sirs, we have full control of all systems. Broadcast is now offline!” One of the technicians announced in the background.

The ambassador sighed. “If this is the finest Irk has to offer, then I’m afraid the deal is off. Don’t bother reaching out again.”

Red stared in disbelief as the screen went blank. He could hear Purple pacing frantically behind him. It took them weeks to get this meeting arranged. Weeks! And all of that work got thrown out because of that little, rotten--

“We need a soda!” Purple screeched to the service drones.

In a flash, the leaders each had a drink in their hand. Red sipped on his, while Purple chugged down the entire thing. Both of them were fuming at the loss of potential, valuable resources.

Now they were going to have to waste even more time conquering that planet and hope they don’t lose anything as a result. The Juntax were a petty race, and they would rather blow up their own planet than let another species conquer them. After all, they had some of the rarest ores known on this side of the galaxy.

Precious metals that could have improved the entire amory.

Purple chucked the empty cup over his shoulder. With unbridled fury etched on his face, he stormed right over to the main call screen. Red followed in suit, still gripping onto his soda. It took every ounce of self control to stay calm, preparing himself to unleash his rage only on the single Irken who lost them the deal. How dare that little bug hack into their systems _ again _.

“Open a connection to Zim. He’s going to answer for what he’s done.”

❖❖❖

“Incoming transmission from the Tallest,” The computer announced in a booming voice.

Zim jumped and smoothed down his tunic. His plan hadn’t gone quite as well as he had hoped, but he did manage to show off his clever engineering skills. Clearing his throat, he stood straight and faced the screen.

“Well, answer it!”

He folded his arms behind his back, eyes glimmering with excitement. His Almighty Tallest had called him back for once.They must’ve had praises for his intellect and abilities, and even enjoyed the entertainment that had been provided.

However, the excitement dulled as a lump formed in his throat. Neither one of them had been smiling when the image appeared on the screen. In fact, Zim saw the opposite, and their antennae had laid flat against their skulls.

He would not let that discourage him. After all, he was their favorite invader…

“My Tallest, I hope that you found my, uh, test run to your liking? Yes, that was only a _ taste _of what my machines can do!”

Purple clicked his tongue. Zim, you--”

“Great Irk, no matter where you are, you only cause problems!“ Red shouted, slamming his drink down onto the table drone next to him.

Zim flinched, then he fidgeted where he stood. “My Tallest, if you could allow me to explain.”

“No. This-This has gone on for long enough. There will be no more explaining. No more reports. Just nothing.”

“Yeah! Nothing!” Purple echoed.

Red folded his arms. “You really are just a Defective, and as such-”

“D-Defective?”

“Yes, Defective. Did you really believe someone as small and worthless as you could _ ever _have a top secret mission?”

The small irken’s antennas drooped down. “But you said-”

“Well, I lied. You can’t face reality even if it slapped you in the face, and kicked your squeedily spooch.”

“Ugh, I'm just going to give it to you straight. You’re banished and have been this whole time. Get that into your PAK. So stay on Earth or self-destruct, preferably self-destruct.” Purple shook his head in disgust. “But _ you _would even fail at that.”

“Either way, it doesn’t matter to us. You’re finished,” Red chimed back in. “From this moment forward, if you come within range of any Irken territory or ship, you’re dead.”

Tension ebbed at Zim, all the way to his very bones. The Tallest bore their gaze down on him through the glassy monitor. The decree repeated back in his head as commanded, cutting deeper and deeper.

The long pause only confirmed that their words had finally sunk into the tiny irken. For once, there wasn’t any indication of back-talk from the former invader. Their steeled expressions held, and finally, Red turned towards the crew, signaling an end.

“See you never,” Purple spat out right before the screen flashed to pitch black.

“Transmission terminated.”

Zim stood motionless with his breath held. Banished? But, how? This couldn’t be right… He had to think about this carefully, but as he tried, everything drew to a blank. What was he to do?

But wait.

Wasn’t today going to be great? This was supposed to be the day he conquered, after all. Everything had been laid out for 100% success. Zim’s immense urge to please rose over the conflict that stirred within. The Tallest were going to be so happy and proud, but yet they--

A sudden spark shot from behind his head. His back spasmed as an anguished cry ripped from his throat.

“**Warning: System Overload**,” His PAK called out.

Zim face-planted the cold, unforgiving floor. Searing pain ruptured from the center of his spine. With as much strength as he could muster, he pushed himself back up off the ground.

_ Did you really believe someone small and worthless as you could ever- _

“**Critical Error: Device Unavailable.**”

Zim screamed again as another wave of shock jolted through his small body. He stumbled, wobbly legs carried him to the elevator.

“Computer, take me down to the lab, n-now!”

“Yes, sirrrr.”

“**Warning: Divide Overflow.**”

As the elevator descended, Zim could feel the memory unit in his PAK cracking as another spark flew past his antennas. His claws clutched at the back of his skull. Old, almost forgotten memories came rushing back to him.

_ What’s a smeet like you going to do as an invader? Be bait? _

“**Warning: Connection Failure 303.**”

_ Zim, that has to be the stupidest idea any irken scientist has ever come up with. _

“**Critical Error: Failed to Connect to Drive 00041**”

“**Critical Error: Unable to Locate Drive 00049**.”

_ Look at him! He looks like he’s going to cry, Red! _

_ Aw, look at those sad little smeet eyes. Are you gonna cry because I took your snacks? _

“**Warning: Connection Failure 505.**”

_ Real invaders like us deserve these snacks, not a puny little engineer wanna-be like you. _

The elevator stopped. Zim gasped as a sharp grinding reverberated from his PAK.

“**Warning: Unable to Process Data.**”

“C-computer, set a timer. My PAK-”

Another pop, followed by a sharp pang to his skull. Smoke started emitting from the heated PAK.

_ Give it a rest, you’re the worst invader this squad has ever seen. Go back to the labs and build your useless inventions. _

“**Error 651**”

“Now!”

Zim tore the PAK off with an ear-splitting screech and slammed it down on the tool bench. The life-clock ticked within the corner of his vision, counting the precious seconds. He had ten minutes, but only eight of them would be of any use before his brain capacity shut down.

He had no idea where to begin, but he didn’t have the time to think. Grabbing his wrench, he tightened some bolts, then noticed some of chip-sets had loosened. He quickly re-seated them and worked his frantic fingers into the guts of the PAK.

Around his hands, devices continued to spark. His pulse pounded in his skull, breaths uneven. A quick glance at the time indicated he had only five minutes left. However, as he dug around, there were compartments he had never noticed before. Wires hung loose from them, and without a second thought, he tore them out.

“Hopefully this will be enough,” He groaned, tearing out more faulty cabling.

“Warning, you have two minutes remaining.”

Zim’s thoughts were starting to dull. He needed to reconnect before a stupid decision could be made with the repairs. Bracing himself for the connection, he set the PAK back onto the ports. The critical messages had stopped playing, but pain shot through several different limbs followed by faint pops.

His PAK was _ still _malfunctioning.

At the very realization, he screamed in frustration. This was not how the mighty Zim would fall. If he was damned anyways, then there was no other choice-

“Computer, bring up the override workstation. Plug my PAK immediately and prepare the interface connection.”

“Master, that would be unwise. Tampering with the PAK’s base code can result in a fatal error.”

“Don't argue! I have nothing left to lose, you infernal machine!”

“Ugh...yes, my master”

A large, orange projection displayed as the computer analyzed Zim’s PAK. An assortment of diagrams were shown with labels, but then a padlock with a smiling irken symbol appeared and blocked the entire view.

“Warning, unauthorized to access critical PAK data.”

Zim’s eyes went wide. “What? That doesn’t make sense. Why not?”

“You are not of rank to access that information.”

“Screw the ranks. We’re banished, so Irken laws no longer apply.” He raised an unsteady fist, “Now, show me!”

A loud moan echoed through the room as the computer complied to its owner's request. The padlock was cleared away, which allowed Zim to dive into the files.

He was not a PAK technician by any means, but Zim had the training and genetic code to be a great scientist. Surely, he could figure out how to fix his without assistance. The throbbing pain wasn't going to be enough to keep him from doing so.

He bit down on his lower lip as he opened the "Attributes" folder. Within that folder, there had been several other folders. The one labeled "Inhibitors" had caught his eye. Inhibitors sounded important, probably was necessary to his well-being.

"Mood stabilizers? They're offline, but the description says--"

A flashing critical symbol appeared in the corner of the display, cutting Zim from his train of thought. He moved his attention to the modifier schematics to investigate, while wishing for the ache in his spine to cease.

"Wait a minute, is that a loyalty enforcer? Those are only used on scientists from conquered, inferior species..."

"It appears so, and it’s overclocked to 250%," The computer confirmed.

"How is that possible?" Zim whispered. The muscles in his back spasmed as another crack resounded. He took a deep breath and pushed the disbelief aside. "Either way, it's obviously malfunctioning, so we should disable it."

He opened the configuration settings and hovered over the disable switch. However, it was as if an invisible force held his hand still. A sharp pinch radiated in his wrist, followed by a wave of nausea.

_ Perhaps I shouldn't... _

Why? It needed to be disabled, but yet an overwhelming sense of dread washed over him. The sensation in his wrist spread through the entirety of his arm. His eyes began to water, and he could barely hold his breath down.

_ It shouldn’t be this hard-- _

"Well, I suppose I could assist you," The computer interjected, "It's attempting to boost to 300%, and you're clearly in distress. My code does state I must assist you in dire situations…"

Then, as if it were nothing, the enforcer was disabled.

Zim's hand dropped as if it had been weighed down by a sack of rocks. The churning nausea receded, but an unfamiliar feeling replaced it.

It was a vague notion that the small irken couldn't quite grasp.

A moment passed as he tried to comprehend what it was, but the continuous throbbing in his head was far too distracting.

_ What is even causing that? _

Zim delved back into the detailed schematics, desperate for relief. He ran a quick query on units associated with his nervous system. The station brought up a diverse list of programs, hardware, and modules as a result.

Then the grinding in his PAK returned, a faint memory slipped past his thoughts.

_ ...40 shmillion mistakes… _

"Of course, the memory conduit!" Zim shouted in realization.

He tore through the data and pulled open the logs, in search for any anomalies. With each batch, his shoulders grew more and more tense. The information provided had made no sense.

Then it dawned on him.

He couldn't spot any abnormalities because _ everything _was inconsistent.

The error log was useless!

He paused his thoughts for a moment to reconsider. Maybe it wasn't so useless. What was causing all of those errors to trip? He scanned through the logs once more in search for any specific keywords or clues. His heart skipped a beat when he noticed there was a program that would execute at almost every turn, causing the majority of the memory issues.

"Overwrite Purge?"

That program wasn’t new to him. Every Irken had things they would write off and wish to forget. Even so, the program would only run when the owner ordered it to. Zim never asked for the code to execute this much.

He did a quick search to locate the main source of the program and found it located within section with similar to the attributes folder he was in before. The list of different programs composed of thought inducers, behavioral limiters, and quarantines. His main concern fell to the overwrite protocols and suppressors.

“Why is all of that even in here? W-wait, no time. We need to disconnect them first.”

Reading over the Overwrite Purge framework, the code had a separate path within his PAK that the host could easily access, but there was another function that ran passively in the background. The settings indicated that the script would run every time he thought or did something that was considered against Standard Irken Protocol.

But Zim always upheld irken standards. He was the greatest invader ever! How could anyone, including the Almighty Tallest, not see--

“Ow, my spine!” He cried out in agony as a sharp stab ebbed within his upper disks.

Then not even a full second later, a foggy feeling blanketed over his mind, even dulling the ache in his skull. He glanced back at the error log, his suspicions had been confirmed. A new entry sat at the bottom with the timestamp written from a moment ago.

It was no wonder why he had such terrible memory.

“Computer, shut that thing off right now!”

Zim steeled himself. The computer did not make a sound, but something within him clicked, indicating that the deed had been done. Then the notion he felt earlier only became clearer, which unsettled him.

All this time, he was never truly able to be himself.

He had always felt so restricted and rigid.

But even now, it made sense to follow the law. Every Irken should feel proud to serve the empire. Zim was no different, and he needed to be the best Irken he could be for the Almighty Tallests he had admired. But did he actually feel that way? Was it even the correct way to be? Or was it because these very modules, that he had no prior knowledge of, had told him so?

With thoughts unraveling, Zim became a bundle of nerves. An urgency overtook his thoughts to deactivate everything in that unit.

Using the computer’s help, he was able to render that entire section offline. Just to be safe, he even had the AI isolate and reformat it, deleting all traces. He had to be thorough. Although, with that task out of the way, he had a gut feeling that there was more to his meltdown than malfunctioning behavior enforcers.

Something must've caused them to overload in the first place, which if he had done nothing, would have killed him.

If Zim wanted those answers, he was going to have to dig further, even deeper inside his code. He opened up a toolkit within the interface and began searching for the status and operator settings. The PAK contained everything that made up Zim, but perhaps something went unnoticed due to his amazing display of character.

He highly doubted that was the case, but at this point, the pain had been too excruciating for him to simply ignore that probability. All too real.

“Show me the status overview screen.”

“Okay.”

Many indication bars and charts filled his vision. The data would be overwhelming for any standard irken, but Zim was not just a run-of-the-mill soldier. He gave the screen a quick glance through and one particular graph caught his eye.

“Behavior levels?”

The chart had bars of different erratic lengths, some highlighted in red, while others were yellow. They indicated where the acceptable thresholds were located, and how his actions had far exceeded the allotment.

He scoffed.

Using the toolkit, he ran a script to remove the barrier thresholds. The chart disappeared, as if someone had deleted all of the data. His antennae twitched, and a light tingle ran down his spine.

But the sensation hadn’t been painful.

He glanced back at the overview screen. His stress and breathing levels were displayed, and while they were high, he wasn’t concerned. When it came to his emotional state, he simply chose to ignore them, unless it was another stupid restriction.

With each item that had been removed, he felt lighter, unnaturally so. The painful reactions of his PAK had lessened as well, to the point where he had to really focus on it to feel it. Everything about the state of his code had just felt so wrong.

And it made him nervous.

Zim had never been _ this _anxious in his entire life.

_ Why is this even happening to me? _

Whatever the cause may have been, it didn’t matter. Survival was his central focus. These strange, tingling feelings had no room to run rampant in his thoughts. He ignored them the best that he could, along with the weird numbing by the base of his spine.

Finally, he started getting into his main personality and PAK composition. While he would have gloated over his scores from past accomplishments, they were not his concern at the moment.

They were not the _ mistakes _he was looking for.

No, the one thing that really bothered him, once he spotted it, was the allowances given to his PAK. The nutrients were enough to keep his body stable, but if it wasn’t for the fact that he was so small--

“Wait, that’s the amount of hormones I was issued as a smeet?” He asked in a hitched tone.

Sure enough, after pulling up expanded details, Zim was provided a growth rate chart. He squinted at it, scrutinizing every detail. If what he was seeing was correct, then it would mean every irken had a predetermined height. That they were assigned to their status at birth.

“B-But that doesn’t seem very fair-”

He stopped, mouth clamped shut. Realization hit him hard.

“I guess I really am a Defective. The system had failed to mold me into a perfect _ unquestioning _drone to serve the empire.”

He looked down at his gloved claws, the trembling from earlier hadn’t completely halted.

"The stress of keeping my emotions and personality in check was too much for my PAK to handle anymore…," he whispered.

Shaking his head, he took a deep breath. Now was not the time to dwell on it. After all, Zim had already come this far. He needed to finish what he had started. Invaders never backed down or gave up.

There was nothing he could do about the allowances at this moment, if even at all. So with renewed concentration, he continued to work through removing any leftover restrictions until all that remained was simply Zim.

Then the only thing left to handle was his rank: Food Service Drone.

“I am no fry-cook,” he hissed out.

Without hesitation, he typed away, starting the encoding protocol. His biggest fear of being re-encoded would have stopped him before, but now, he wanted to be stripped of the pathetic branding. He had terminated the behavior module that would have subdued him into a mindless drone without a rank

There was nothing holding him back as Zim flicked the switch.

In response, electric currents ran through his entire being, causing all of his muscles to jerk and twitch in rapid succession. He squeezed his eyes shut at the shamefully familiar sensation, praying for a quick release.

Then finally, after what seemed like a lifetime, it ceased.

A quiet beep indicated that the rank had been stripped clean.

The PAK remained stationary within its ports, no sparking, grinding, or popping. It was as if a heavy weight had been lifted off of his back.

Zim could breathe.

“Maintenance complete. PAK is fully operational. Congratulations, you are no longer bound to The Irken Empire.”

Suddenly, the reality of the situation came crashing back down. Relief too short lived. Without the override protocols to sweep away the treasonous thoughts, what he really felt came flooding back.

Tallest Red had told him his mission was a _ lie _. That everything had gone on long enough. He spent almost two miserable years on this planet, trying his best to please them, but it was clearly a cruel joke on their part.

"Red had always been a jerk. Purple too, that ass." Zim seethed out, memories from their invader days were still fresh in his mind. Earthen jargon was suitable to use for the likes of _ them _.

Zim glanced back at the PAK holographic projection. He had gone through hell for his empire, for his Tallests, and this was his reward? Trapped forever on Earth with discarded scraps of junk he had the nerve to call great irken technology?

His PAK nearly self-destructed as a result!

At the thought of his PAK, he had to wonder, what were all of those misconfigured settings? It was hard for him to believe, because Zim had always known of his greatness, as well as his eagerness to please. But now, only it was only his greatness that remained. His squeedily spooch twisted at the thought of all the times he bowed down to his leaders, groveling for even a scrap of their attention.

Sickening was what it was.

And of course, the control brains weren't called as such for nothing. They literally attempted to condemn him to a life of fry-cook servitude. Just because he came out ‘wrong’. That wasn’t even _ his _fault! If Red and Purple had just--

Zim's fist slammed on the bench before him. His small body began to quake once more as everything he had ever bottled bubbled up to the surface. He took a small vial in his hand and hurled it across the room, a loud shatter rang through the air. Then another container fell victim. It just wasn’t enough. With a sweeping force, he shoved all of his tools off the bench, then kicked the table right over.

PAK legs unfolded themselves out of their compartment and Zim brought the sharp ends down onto the override station. The display distorted before completely dissipating, unlike the irken’s anger. He let out a shrieking scream of frustration, continuing to stab the work station with the metal appendages. Over and over again.

❖❖❖

**Beep.**

**Beep.**

**Beep.**

Shmillions of light years away, a transmission was received on the Massive. The encapsulated message was a very special kind, only ever sent out when a PAK’s monitoring device was damaged by means of self-destruction.

Almighty Tallest Red and Purple stared wide eyed at the screen. Jaws were ajar and snacks had fallen to the ground.

"He… he actually did it?" Purple asked, barely a whisper.

Red shook his head. "No way."

There was a pause as the situation processed in their minds. Purple turned to his co-leader, hoping for an affirmation.

"If Zim is dead, does that mean there’s no more problems?"

"No more Zim, no more problems."

"I thought this day would never come.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading the first installment of 'Against the Machine'. I have always loved Invader Zim, ever since I was little kid. After the movie came out, I was inspired to get back into writing fanfiction, and honestly, I'm super excited. Having my friends encourage me really helped to get this chapter out, and I can't thank you guys enough.
> 
> I look forward to posting chapter 2. If you enjoyed this chapter, keep an eye out. There's more to come :D
> 
> Update: I drew up a cover piece for this work. It's based off a scene here in Chapter 1. Here's a link to it : https://faithfulwhispers-art.tumblr.com/post/189241153388/cover-art-i-drew-for-against-the-machine-its


	2. Inclinations

GIR and Minimoose returned to the base rather pleased with themselves. They had a wonderful outing, causing mischief at every turn for the local big-headed kid. However something was wrong, they noticed, as the first floor was eerily quiet as they came through the door. Not a single sign of their beloved Master to be seen.

Descending to the lower levels, Minimoose had suggested to his robot companion that they check the lab. Zim spent the majority of his time there in recent months. But, instead of being greeted to the sight of their master happily inventing away, they found him slumped down in the center of ruin

Broken glass was scattered around. Blue electric sparks flew off snapped conduits at random intervals. Cables and wires tangled around, torn and frayed. The metal walls and flooring were adorned with deep gashes. GIR covered his mouth in shock.

"Nyah!" The miniature moose called out.

Zim's turned his attention to the minions, acknowledging their presence. Eyes were glazed over with rage.

"No, I'm not okay. _Nothing _is okay_._"

"Aw, what happened to you?" GIR inquired as he scampered over to his master's feet.

There was a tense pause before Zim groaned and turned his head away.

"Just... go download a copy of the computer's memory drive from the last few hours. I don't want to talk about it. Both of you," he waved them off, "Now leave Zim be."

The two minions had no choice but to obey, leaving him alone once more. The exiled irken tilted his head back, a small sigh passed his lips. Every one of his limbs ached and the lab was in shambles.

_Not that it was much of a lab to begin with. _Magenta eyes squeezed shut. _All they ever sent me was their scraps of garbage to get rid of._

Then he blinked, a sinking feeling settled in the pit of his stomach.

"So this is what a freed mind feels like?" He whispered to himself.

Everything had made perfect sense now. Why his plans had always exploded in his face. Why he'd gotten tossed around from one outpost to another. How GIR came to be. Even that time he 'protected' that munchin-cheese garbage from the Tallests thinking it was a super weapon. His mind-his _sanity_\- had been shackled by undying devotion and delusions as a result of over-tuned loyalty modifiers.

Without them, it was as if a fog had been lifted from his conscious.

"I've been such a fool…"

Despite the discomfort that settled in his muscles, Zim gathered himself up. His stance straightened as he looked over the damage the tantrum had caused. At least the array of his equipment had proven he could still be a destructive force of nature.

But one question posed itself to him.

_What now?_

The anger smoldered, like an ember that refused to die. His antennae twitched in agitation, brows knitted together. A sudden, sharp squeal rang from above. GIR must have just watched the playback. Zim could hear the sound of shattering echo over and over from the higher levels. The sound grated against his nerves as the screams repeated, growing louder with each playback.

Honestly, he didn't want to deal with any of it at that moment.

"Computer, clean this mess up. I'm going to my private quarters," he pointed towards the ceiling, "And see to it that I'm not disturbed."

"Nnngh, fiiiiine."

Once inside his personal chamber, Zim placed a code on the door panel to lock it shut. After all, he just needed some quiet time to nurse his abused body. The room was almost bare, save for a desk and monitor on one side of the room, and a compartment for his uniforms on the other. There was an outline on the ground from where he could summon his resting pod, but even then, he didn't feel like sleeping. Instead, he sauntered to the farthest corner the darkened, purple room and slid to the floor.

_Wasn't today supposed to be amazing?_

He heaved out a bitter laugh before resting his arms across his knees. No, today was another failure as a result of his inept ability to perceive things. The plan had been just as _dumb_ as the time he tried to roll Mars against the Earth's surface. Zim cringed at the memory.

Yet here he was, a stranded outcast. At least he was still here. Still breathing.

He prevailed, like he always had.

But now that he was all alone with his thoughts, he decided to delve into his concerns before the fit of rage. His trusty tablet presented itself from the PAK and settled down onto his lap. With careful fingers, Zim sifted through the copy of the initial scan the computer had saved.

His scores and assessments had peaked his interest. When he initially stumbled across them, there wasn't time to go through the data. While he knew that his personality overworked the components in his PAK to death, he wasn't sure how it affected his performance. Zim was never privy to the information that was stored about him. Since he was effectively banished, and without a deterrent, he could pull up every assessment that was done on him.

He had hacked into his own code and broken just about every other law as it stood.

So what were several-dozens more?

"Let's see here…"

The data processors were hit or miss, and according to several reports, he had plenty of faulty personality traits present. However, he scratched his head at the fact that it was noted as a concern that his confidence levels were overinflated.

_Now, that's just silly._

Zim disregarded it as a piece of misinformation and swept to the next assessment on record. "At least I scored too high on the independent thought evaluation," he said, slight amusement in his tone.

It was somewhat comforting to know that in the end all of his actions weren't the product of the system.

Yet, he still did things-really pathetic things for recognition. The signs had been everywhere. Purple and Red had always hated him, but if he thought about it, Zim never really liked them either.

In fact, would he have praised and adored them as much as he had if they hadn't been the Tallest? He didn't think so. They were always so… so _irritating_. The PAK had forced so much on him, things that he just found so perverse.

Zim's body tensed up as he could feel the nausea rising.

Taking a deep breath, he decided to realign his focus. This was about him, not them.

In the midst of his turmoil, another report had caught his eye. While the information indicated that he had shown such great promise, there were a lot of fundamental issues lurking beneath. He read over the comments one of his past commanding officers had made, stating that he was clever and had the ability to adapt, but yet-

"Is unable to reason with logic?" He shook his head. "Well that's because their logic was stupid!"

Then Zim felt the urge to laugh rising, a sarcastic grin filled his features.

"Now I see why the loyalty enforcers were overclocked in the first place."

So many pieces were falling into place.

The PAK deficiencies had apparently ran so much deeper than he could've imagined. Even so, nearly three-fourths of them weren't even _real_ defects on his part. They were either half-installed programs, restrictions that were misconfigured, or that his personality didn't quite fit the mold.

Deep down, Zim had always known that he wasn't like the other irkens.

"What was it again?" He stopped and mentally ran through his memories. "Oh right, 40 shmillion something mistakes. No matter, there were so many flaws with the initial PAK design. Perhaps I can-"

Brilliant ideas started to swarm the caverns of his mind. There were so many possibilities. After all, Zim was also a scientist by nature, so surely it wasn't too far fetched to simply…

Realization clicked.

"I can," he calmly reassured himself.

Without another word, he got up off the floor and strode over to his desk. There was such a magnificent scheming to be had. He wasn't going to let that smoldering anger diminish. No, he was going to use it to his advantage, and let that fire burn within him. Connecting the tablet to the monitor, he pulled out the PAK schematics in one tab and the allotments in another.

Zim's life was in his own claws now.

And while he may have been condemned to exile, there was nothing stopping him from bringing down his wrath. A chuckle rumbled in his throat as he pulled out his stylus.

"Not to disturb your moment or anything, but the annoying kid is banging on the front door."

Zim scowled as bright red lights began to flash. "Have the gnomes take care of the stink-filth. I'm busy."

The Computer merely groaned in response and the flashing lights stopped. Then as if the interruption had never happened, Zim turned back towards the monitors, interpreting the different data. It was even a miracle that all the files had survived the meltdown. But even so, it just meant he was that great.

No longer was he a play-thing to use as a sick joke. All of the remaining memories that had gotten shoved into quarantine were at his disposal now. Too many times he had gotten pushed down and abused. Way too many times he had been looked down upon, scrutinized even, and treated as a lesser.

Even before gaining their divine status, those two had done him so many wrongs.

A devious gleam shone in Zim's eyes as he found a new strength in his resolve.

_I shall bring such horrible suffering down upon them._

❖❖❖

Once again, Dib found himself beating on the door of Zim's house. His jacket was torn in several places and his hair had twigs lodged in it. There was mud smeared across his cheeks and dirt covered his glasses.

He _needed_ answers, and there was only one being that could provide them.

"Zim, I know you're in there!" He shouted at the top of his lungs.

He was furious. No, furious couldn't even begin to describe how he was feeling. His whole night was ruined. The one night where he wasn't focused on his alien arch-nemesis.

In fact, he was having a good time, writing a report up on Bigfoot to mail to Truth Shrieker. It was a great article, at least in his opinion, that had a chance to get published. And then Zim's little robot thing came in through the window and trashed his computer.

It was so unwarranted!

If that weren't enough, the robot had even eaten one of the drives, one full of important notes that took him ages to compile, and ran off with it. Dib chased it deep, deep into the woods. There were so many twists and turns, and the robot had been so fast. If hadn't been the fact he was always hunting for monsters and other cryptids in there, he would have gotten lost.

But no, that wasn't even the worst of it.

The _moose_ had been in on it too.

At the mental image of the purple creature, Dib shuttered. He never, ever wanted to get on Minimoose's bad side. If tonight had been any indication, the moose was a diabolical force to be reckoned with. Dib could only imagine what would've happened if the robots hadn't been merely toying with him.

But still.

How dare Zim even send his minions after him!

"Whatever you're up to, I'll stop you!"

Dib banged on the door harder, causing the impacts to jolt up his arm. Usually, Zim would have answered by now. He hadn't seen the alien much at all the last few weeks, and his henchmen had been so obviously a distraction. He gritted his teeth and began kicking at the door.

If no one was going to answer, then he was going to have to break his way in. Dib was absolutely done, and he was going to get to the bottom of things one way or another. He put his whole body into one last kick, the heel driving into the reinforced material.

Then suddenly, sirens started to blare, and he noticed that after all that, the door hadn't even budged an inch. A sudden chill shot down his spine as growing shadows joined his own. Dib didn't even need to turn his head to know that the freakish garden gnomes towered behind him. They gripped the back of his coat and dragged him from the porch.

"Oh, come on. Face me yourself, you coward!" He taunted towards the base.

Still no sign of his enemy as he got tossed out onto the sidewalk. The landing irritated his store back, but he recovered right away. He tilted his head to look at the base from a different perspective, while considering all of his options. Perhaps he could try breaking in through the side...

However, the moment he tried to step back into the perimeter, a laser was shot at him from one of the gnomes.

Irritation only grew, but he knew there was no safe way to enter now that the _entire_ base was locked onto him. Dib had learned that lesson the hard way after many attempts at sneaking in over the last two years. He stomped his foot down and crossed his arms, then shot a sharp glare at the upper window through filthy glasses.

"Fine! Be that way!"

After a moment, he relaxed his shoulders. A heavy breath passed his lips in defeat. There was no point in standing in front of Zim's house all night. Ever since the minions had abandoned him in the woods, there hadn't been _any_ evidence of activity. But he really didn't want to go home, the moon hung bright overhead.

The night was still young.

So instead, he headed over towards the park. With any luck, maybe he would catch a glimpse of something spooky. He did have his camera on hand, so hopefully he could turn his entire evening around. Even a blurry, distorted picture could brighten his spirits right about now. There had been some reports of a large, furry creature lurking during the night, followed by an eerie howling.

That was worth checking out at least.

Taking the shortcut, he strolled through the tree covered path. Any normal kid wouldn't be caught in such an area at this time of night, but Dib was not a normal preteen by any means. No, he was Earth's savior and nothing scared him easily.

However, he halted when he reached the center of the park.

There was a crater in the middle of the field, surrounded by scorch marks. The moonlight shone bright, illuminating the pieces of metal that were sprinkled around the edge. Glancing over to the left, Dib saw a trail of some kind of fluid. The scene indicated there had been some sort of freak accident.

The sight had looked familiar, in fact, reminiscent of his very own battles.

"What the heck went on here?"

He walked over to the edge and knelt down. Taking his glasses off, he wiped away the dirt and replaced them. Then with steady, careful fingers, he lifted a piece of the wreckage. It was a chunk of burgundy-colored metal, cool to the touch. He lifted it up higher, turning it to analyze at different angles.

"Wait! I recognize the color of this…" He composed the fragments of details together in his head, scanning over the scene around him. "These are from Zim's ship. Oh man, there's nothing left but little bits shrapnel."

He quickly pocketed the scrap of metal and scrambled to his feet. Then withdrawing his trusty camera from his ruined coat, he began taking pictures of the site. Whatever it was that Zim had been up to, it obviously didn't end well. He finally noticed the globs of melted pink material everywhere, and the faded stink of hot plastic that hung in the air.

_Is he even still alive right now?_

He didn't see any signs of blood and guts, or whatever organs Zim had anywhere. Guess Dib would have to find out in the morning, and see if the alien bothered showing up to Skool. Right, tomorrow was Monday. If he stayed out any later, Gaz was going to kill him. Even though she would never admit it, Dib knew that it bothered her if he didn't come home after being gone for a long period of time.

So he had better finish up as quickly as possible and see if there were any clues to be found. After all, there was a chance that Dib could salvage some cool technology from the wreckage. A small possibility at this point, but still a possibility.

But in the end, there was one fact did remain true. His room was still trashed, and he was not looking forward to having to clean it when he got back. Sure, he could attempt to stall all he wanted, but Gaz and the mess would still be there.

"Thanks a lot, Zim."

Actually, there had better be _something_ worthwhile among the debris. Otherwise, he was going to track down that alien, and Dib would not stop until he got some answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh wow, thank you all for the comments and feedback. I wasn't expecting such lovely reactions and for the story to take off as much as it had. I'm glad you guys enjoyed the first chapter, and I did go back and correct any formatting errors that I was alerted to.
> 
> But I seriously hope you guys enjoyed reading this update. This was quite an interesting chapter to write, but I'm even more excited for Chapter 3. Also, this was brought to my attention, but I do plan to update at least once a week. Expect the updates to mostly fall on the weekends, which is when the majority of the editing takes place.
> 
> Thanks again for all the support!


	3. Blending In

"Oh, no!"

"No-no-no-noooo!"

"Minimoose, why didn't you tell me it was morning _sooner_?!"

The Monday morning rays shone through windows on the ground floor. Zim scampered up through the maintenance tunnel, shrieking in panic. After kicking the hatch open, he bolted into the living room and blocked GIR's view of the TV. The robot merely tilted his head to get a better view.

"I'm going to be late!" Zim exclaimed as he shoved his wig on.

"But Master, you don't have to keep going to Skool no more," GIR countered.

Zim paused half-way of putting a contact in. He scowled at his little robot as he resumed and proceeded with the other.

"Yes, I do. We still have to live here," he sighed exasperatedly. "It's best to keep blending in, and if I miss anymore more Skool, then the human authorities will send in their DCF again."

GIR perked up. "I'll bake some cookies!"

"No GIR, that's not a _good_ thing. I don't need them sticking their noses in our business and finding out what we are."

"Oooooh, well you have a good day, okay?" The little robot replied with a cheesy smile.

Zim wiped his face and proceeded to step out the door. "I will try. Just keep an eye on the base while I'm gone, but Minimoose is in charge."

He didn't wait for confirmation as the door clicked shut behind him.

❖❖❖

Dib could only stare at Zim's empty seat with growing resentment. Class started twenty minutes ago and the little green alien was still nowhere to be seen.

_I guess he really did blow himself up._

Either way, he was still royally pissed off at Zim for ruining his night for absolutely no reason. Even after scavenging around the wreckage he'd stumbled upon, there wasn't anything that could be of use. Just a few mementos that no one would believe came from a spaceship, but instead, a dingy junkyard.

It even left a sore spot that he wasn't able to learn anything about what the plan had entailed. Sadly, if had the alien exploded, he wished that it had been by his own hands. But then, as if some other worldly force felt his desire, Zim came rushing into class.

Mrs. Krauss, their English/Homeroom teacher, stopped mid-lecture and slapped her pointer against the board. "You're late!"

Zim flinched at the sharpness in her voice. He placed his hands behind his back and gave her the most apologetic look possible. "Sorry, my dog ate my homework."

"Yeah, like I haven't heard that before. Go sit down."

Zim nodded and without another word took his seat, and Dib was forced to stand-by as the enemy blended in with the class. It was so obvious Zim wasn't of this world, but no, only he could see it. And he saw alright. In fact, if looks could kill, the Irken would have died at least twenty times over just in the past few minutes alone.

But despite all the angry vibes Dib was sending towards him, it got no response.

After being classmates for the past two years, being passed along from one crappy teacher to another, the two had built up a dynamic. Dib would glower at his enemy's head until Zim turned around to throw a crudely written note as his face. They would exchange heated words in whispers, and perhaps attempt to battle with crudely built slingshots with pencils and paperclips when the teacher's back as turned.

Then an additional fifteen minutes had passed, and still, not even a hint of acknowledgment.

Well, that wasn't going to fly with Dib. In an effort to change it up, he decided to chuck a paper ball at Zim, making the first blow his. However, Zim caught it and tossed it right back, without even turning his head. The ball landed neatly on the center of the desk, as if it were taunting him.

"Oh, I see how it is," Dib whispered.

When he went to throw it right back at him, yet again, he noticed that Zim was scribbling something down on his tablet. The one he got away with because of his 'skin condition'.

Leaning in his seat, Dib stole a better glance. Zim's eyes were glued to the screen, and for once, he hadn't shot his hand up to interrupt the teacher about a question. The movements of the stylus were swift, and the characters, especially from a distance, were unrecognizable. He could see what looked like a line graph at the corner of the screen, but that was about it.

Whatever it was, Dib had a feeling it related to the day before.

However as he watched his nemesis, the rest of first period had passed without any outbursts, which was surprising to Dib.

But History had been dull as well. Zim usually asked a lot of questions during second period, and Dib knew it was so he could gain insight on human war tactics. Instead, it looked like Zim was a quiet and dedicated student.

Oh, but he knew damn well that looks were deceiving.

Then there was Gym. Today's class was a free day, so Zim hung out on the bleachers, still too preoccupied with his device to join in any games. Dib was only able to observe the poorly disguised alien from a distance. After an incident last month involving a jump rope, Coach had explicitly forbidden the two from going anywhere near each other.

But yet again, the rest of the period had gone by without any attention grabbing displays.

A sense of unease stirred in Dib's gut as he made his way to the cafeteria at the start of lunch. Same as every lunch period, the cafeteria was crowded, but he managed to grab his serving of the disgusting slop and found Gaz at their table. As expected, she was engrossed in her game, food left untouched.

He sat down on the opposite side of her, where it was easier to keep an eye on Zim. Right away, he noted that the alien didn't even bother with grabbing a tray. In fact, he was still writing things down on that tablet, chewing on his lower lip. For once, he wasn't even trying to convince the students around him that he was normal.

It seemed as if Zim had no idea he was even in the cafeteria right now...

Dib stabbed into his food and tried to comprehend the Irken's actions. The enemy had been way too calm for someone who probably nearly died the day before. Was this another trick? Or was he trying to psych him out?

Actually, Dib wouldn't be surprised at all if this was an attempt from his enemy to drive him insane, so that he could be taken to the crazy house and-

"You're being annoying," Gaz stated in a stern tone.

Dib's attention turned right to his little sister. He scrunched his face up and huffed. "How so?"

"Well for starters, you're thinking so hard I can almost hear your voice." She paused and held up a second digit. "And you keep smacking your food. Chew like a normal person."

His cheeks reddened as he finished a mouthful. "Oh, sorry." He placed the fork down and leaned closer towards Gaz. "It's just… Don't you think something is up with Zim?"

She shrugged and looked down at the screen in her hands. "If you're referring to how quiet he's being, probably. But, don't care."

"Well, I do." Dib bit out as he turned his gaze back towards Zim.

"Of course you do, you remind me. Every. Single. Day." Gaz grimaced and pressed the buttons on the handheld harder. "It's getting old. You're thirteen now, so isn't it time you go find a new hobby."

Dib gasped and shook his head. "Nonsense! The paranormal doesn't care about how old I am, and Zim is always going to try to conquer the world.

"Yeah, sure," she replied with an eye-roll. "You're just grumpy because you let his little robots mug you."

"I didn't let them do anything. For your information, I was minding my own business before the dog came bursting through my window."

"Yeah? Go ahead and cry about it even more," Gaz retorted, her voice laced with sarcasm.

"...it still has my hard drive, you know? I was so close to getting it back, but…"

She paused her game again and looked up at him expectantly. "But?"

"The moose, Gaz. The _moose_…" he murmured, nearly trembling.

Indicating that she did not want to touch that topic with a ten foot pole, Gaz unpaused the game and scoffed. "Whatever. You're being a baby about this. Just eat your dumb food."

Dib picked his fork up and proceeded to push the mush around. His appetite had vanished, not that the meal was worth eating anyways. While Gaz didn't share his concern, whatever was on that device had Zim's full attention, which meant that it was probably something evil.

Maybe he could steal a good look in fourth period where their desks were closer together.

When the bell rang, Dib said his good-byes to his sister He would see her after school, not that he needed to remind her. After tossing the uneaten food away, he hung back and waited till Zim had headed to class first.

Although, how the two had shared every period was beyond Dib. Honestly, he really wouldn't be surprised if it hadn't been a coincidence, but something Zim had a hand in. At least it worked towards his advantage as well. He had plenty of opportunities to thwart the alien all day long, five days a week.

Once the final warning bell rang, Dib entered the classroom. He tried to snag a good look at the screen from his seat, but he couldn't see anything but pink foreign symbols. Some of the etchings looked familiar after spending some time with Tak's old ship, but he had no idea what they actually meant.

Suddenly, a thought crossed his mind.

If he could snatch the device from Zim, then he could take it to the ship and translate it. He considered this idea for a moment, but ultimately, decided to place it on the back-burner. As of right now, Zim was practically fused with the tablet, so the likelihood of being able to steal it had a negative chance of succeeding.

And so, the day continued on with Dib paying attention to the alien instead of the teachers. Time had passed fairly quickly, considering that his entire focus was devoted to finding out what those plans were. But deep down, irritation grew as Dib realized he still hadn't gotten any closer to getting answers for what went on yesterday.

Actually, why hadn't Zim taken the time to rub the torment of last night in his face?

What was even going on with that stupid device?

Dib just _had_ to know.

Once the final class had come to a close, Dib managed to follow Zim to his locker. The little Irken had no idea he was lurking behind, or if he had, he didn't show it. This only served to fuel Dib's annoyance.

Not only had Zim ignored him throughout the entirety of the day, but now here he was, still doing it.

Enough was enough.

He slammed a hand on the locker over Zim's head to grab his attention. Then peering through his glasses, he leaned a shoulder against the lockers. "So what are you planning?"

"Nothing, Dib-stink," Zim replied casually as he shoved the tablet behind his back, discreetly depositing it into the PAK.

Dib raised a brow, the movement had not gone unnoticed. "Right, so then why did your robots spend yesterday evening terrorizing me?"

"Oh, don't ask me. GIR usually does whatever he wants. Silly little ro-"

"Oh, yeah? Well I found _this,_" Dib pulled out a piece of the cruiser, bringing it inches from Zim's face, "in the middle of the park."

Zim merely stared at the scrap of metal without so much a word. But no, Dib wasn't going to let this go and have the enemy play dumb on him. He waved the piece back and forth, a smirk made its way to his face.

"Whatever you were up to, it seemed like it went up in smoke. Literally."

Then Dib watched as alien's eyes went wide in realization.

"Give me that!" Zim snapped as he ripped the metal from Dib's fingers.

"Hey!"

"This is irken! It's not meant for your dirty human hands."

"Well you're the one that abandoned your wrecked ship. There was practically nothing left, save for a few little scraps." Dib shrugged, shoving his hands in coat pockets. "I gathered them up and took them home. I'm never ever giving them back."

However, Zim quietly glared as he held the single piece close to him. Dib felt a bit unsettled by the lack of reaction that comment had received. At least he hadn't been called a liar yet, so he was onto something.

But whatever this was, it was getting really awkward as Zim continued to remain so tight-lipped.

Usually, his enemy was a lot more… screamy.

Odd facts aside, Dib had a serious bone to pick with Zim, so he wasn't going to back away from this. No, he was just going to keep digging deeper. Stick the menace where it counted, and show him who's boss.

Licking his lips, he leaned in closer, using his height to intimidate the enemy. "Oh what? I'm guessing that you don't even need a pathetic human like me to stop you now? Are you so stupid and _incompetent_-

The air was shoved right out of his lungs as his back got slammed against the lockers. Dib didn't have the time to react, Zim's movements had been too quick. He squirmed, fighting against the strong hold on his shirt. The clawed hand wouldn't give.

"If you wish to keep that _tongue_ in your awful mouth, then I suggest you shut it. Right now!" Zim snarled.

Dib could barely breathe as fear overtook him. Despite being a few inches shorter, Zim was able to lift him off the ground, his back pressed harder against the metal surface. Pure, complete ire washed over the alien's face.

But Dib wasn't going to let Zim push him around, fear be damned.

"Aw, did I strike a nerve? I thought advanced alien species didn't have fweelings," he taunted back through a forced sneer.

"Listen here, I am a perfectly _normal_ human child. Now you will leave me alone, or Zim will make you feel so, so much pain," he quietly hissed, a hint of malice with each syllable.

There was something behind Zim's contacts that Dib couldn't quite make out, but he had no doubt the alien would not hesitate to back up his words. He couldn't think of a comeback, so he held his breath.

After a moment, the grip slackened, allowing Dib's heels to feel the solid ground. That was not the reaction he had anticipated. Sure, expected to get screamed at, or be called a human-smelly, but to be outright threatened with such bloodlust…

Well, that wasn't the usual method of banter they started with...

_Geeze, who pissed in your Cornflakes?_ Dib thought to himself as he watched the alien storm away, ending the conversation completely.

His breathing stabilized once Zim was around the corner, out of sight. He put his hand against the fabric of the shirt, feeling the slight creases that remained. Honestly, he didn't want to think about how his throat would have felt had Zim grabbed there instead.

In fact, Dib could barely process any of it.

First, his enemy goes missing for a couple of weeks. Then out of nowhere, he gets robbed by a small robot. Afterwards, he stumbled onto completely ruined alien tech. And finally, Zim had risked compromising that dumb disguise by such a display of aggression in a hall full of students.

None of which had paid an ounce of attention.

In the end, despite the warning, Dib would make it his mission to find out what Zim was planning…

❖❖❖

Once Zim made it back inside the base, he threw his wig off and removed the contacts. He sighed in relief as metal arms retrieved and deposited them in his PAK. Today had been a long, long day.

Skool was a complete waste of his time, but still, what he had said to GIR this morning remained true.

They had no choice but to live here on Earth...

He gave Minimoose and GIR a short nod as he strolled over towards the elevator. The two had been enthralled by the television, and half-eaten pizzas had covered them and couch. Zim didn't want to know the story behind that, so he let them be.

As the elevator descended, he took out the small piece of metal he had confiscated from the human earlier. As he inspected it, he noticed that it was only about the size of his palm. The deep red shard was dirty and had jagged edges. However, he recognized the material in a heartbeat.

It really was from his precious Voot Runner.

He had forgotten all about it.

Even if he were to break into Dib's house and gather the last of the pieces, it would be of no use. There was no way of rebuilding the ship with it being completely trashed. He would have to come up with a new means of transportation.

As Zim thought about it, now that he was cut off from the Empire, he would have to seek new methods of gathering necessary equipment. Sure, he could raid the human facilities and try engineering something, but even then, it wouldn't be enough. For smaller projects, sure… but not something so large-scale.

However, a new ship was the least of his concerns at the moment.

There were other things that needed to be attended to first...

Finally, the elevator stopped at the lab entrance. He gulped down a breath of air and put the shard away. As he stepped towards the entrance, the large doors swung open, detecting his presence. Zim took in the details before him.

If it weren't for the fact it was so ingrained in both his and the computer's memories, no one would even know that yesterday had happened. The lab looked just as it did before the meltdown. All of the scratches were buffed out of the walls and equipment. The glass had been cleared away. Cables were all replaced, and the electricity flowed smoothly.

It was in perfect working order.

Zim laughed. The very notion was a mere lie. He could always give something a new coat of paint, but the inside would still be rotten garbage. And so, his equipment was still junk, no matter how 'functional' it seemed.

Almost like him.

He shook his head, pushing the negativity aside. "No, I am the greatest. They'll see… and feel so much regret."

Zim had more in store, so much more than some superficial project. If anything, being banished was the best thing that could have ever happened, right? His eyes would have never been opened. He would still be crying for the Tallests to pay attention to him.

Yet…

Making his way towards the repaired workstation, he pulled out the tablet and looked over his notes from throughout the day. While some of the calculations looked good, there were a few incomplete lines on the other page.

Dib's sneer flashed in the back of his mind. The human had been more irksome than normal today, so he had gotten distracted half-way through a particular brainstorming session.

_Are you so stupid and-_

"The opinion from a human doesn't mean a thing," he stated firmly to no one but himself.

No longer did anyone's opinion mean anything to Zim. The only opinion that mattered was his own. The days where he sought out approval were over.

He would finish the equations here in his base, but this time, he would keep track of time on his own. After getting snapped at by Mrs. Krauss, he did not want to draw that kind attention to himself again.

No, he couldn't have that.

Zim needed to keep his invader skills sharp, despite having been stripped of the rank, and that meant blending in perfectly with the humans. He couldn't risk his operations getting ruined now that his entire being was committed to it. This was on his own decision, and he was going to see all of this through. He couldn't lose motivation so easily.

After all, it had only been a _single _day.

Soon enough, he would be ready to move forward with the first phase of his plan…

He just needed time to work out all of the variables.

His very life was on the line this time, and Zim was _not_ going to let it violently combust and burn away in complete failure…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone, thank you for reading this installment of Against the Machine. I had a blast writing this chapter, and I hope you all enjoyed it as well. I can't thank you guys enough for the encouragement and comments you provided. Y'all are incredible.
> 
> However, I noticed I never made this quite clear, but Enter the Florpus doesn't actually happen in this timeline. So where does this story take place? It takes place a couple of years after Zim first landed on Earth, even past the final episode of the television series. Don't get me wrong, I loved the movie, but instead, I have been using the comics as a reference.
> 
> So yes, Chair!Dib still happened. But no one in the universe wants to remember the fact that actually happened. XD If you haven't read the comics, I highly suggest them as they're pretty funny. But reading them is NOT necessary in order to follow this story.
> 
> Thanks again for all the support, and I look forward to releasing next week's installment :)


	4. Initiate

A long skool day had come to an end as Zim strolled towards his base. His wig was slightly disheveled, and visible bags beneath his eyes. It had been a little over a week since he'd learned the truth, and he kept himself busy ever since.

Today, however, had been somewhat of a different story. The teachers had enough of his 'electronic device' when they realized he wasn't actually paying attention to the lectures. He could practically hear Dib's annoying snicker as he was forced to put it away.

_Speaking of which_.

The human thought he was stealthier than he actually was. Zim noticed he was skulking behind, occasionally catching glimpses of movement in the shadows. He rolled his eyes.

_Whatever_.

As Zim made it to the perimeter of his base, he stepped inside and pivoted on his heel. With a snap of his fingers, he shot a glance out towards the street.

"Set security protocol to shoot on sight."

A movement stirred from the neighbor's bush, and the gnomes locked on to it. The corners of Zim's lips curled up.

"I'm not in the mood to play, Dib-thing." He crossed his arms. "You'll keep away from my base if you know what's good for you."

No response.

Zim knew Dib's antics well enough to know he was baiting him.

Well, he had other matters at hand to worry about. After all, he noticed that the annoying preteen had kept following him around, stalking his movements. Even after the warning he'd been issued.

But it wasn't like the human was actually a _threat._

So without another word, he turned back towards his dwellings and made his way inside. A small chuckle rumbled in his throat as a yelp of pain sounded from behind.

_Stupid human…_

As per usual, he threw off all his disguise elements behind closed doors. Once they were put away, he rushed down to the lower levels. Excitement welled up inside him as he entered the lab.

"Computer, what's the latest status on the compound?"

"It's about 90% complete. I sent you a message like an hour ago."

"Huh?" Zim pulled out his tablet, "Oh, you did."

"Mmmmhmmmm."

Placing the device down on the workstation, Zim's fingers clasped together. "Excellent, it should be ready within a few hours, so we're going to proceed."

He pulled up the schematics and charts that he worked tirelessly to draw up, looking over the details. The weapons stored in his PAK could use major upgrades, that's for sure. There were a few new invention ideas bouncing around in his head as well. However, he couldn't have the new ones blowing him up, so he'll focus on the overhauls one project at a time.

But then, he should also take space into consideration.

While he disabled the enforcers and modifiers, he still needed to remove the actual hardware. A PAK, while handy, had space at a premium. He could store things that were far more valuable to him instead.

Even so, he needed to do that in sections.

_Stupid ten minute limit._

On the bright side, all of the pieces were coming together. Taking a glimpse at his list, he decided to check over the modification plans again.

Then checked them again.

And again.

As he scoured the plans, he began chewing on the inside of his cheek. Even though he had gotten away with tampering with the foundation of his PAK once already, it was risky to go at it for a second time.

Of course, fear began to run rampant, with its bestfriend doubt following close behind.

Was it so bad that he was-

He slammed a fist down on the bench, causing a metallic ring to echo in the lab. No, he couldn't allow himself to drift astray. Zim would do whatever was necessary. Life wasn't worth living if he couldn't push his limits. Even if he was banished, he was still an Irken. One that had all of the training of the elite.

But the doubt…and the clarity… the fact he was able to purely follow his own desires without an outside influence…

Overwhelming would be an understatement.

But he could remember so clearly, how Red looked at him, laughing at his dutiful misery while Purple watched in contempt.

_Oh, there's no way I'm going to let that go…_

With the painful memory dancing in the back of his mind, he pushed away the fears. He had nearly died a thousand times over in his lifetime. Last week had been nothing.

At least, that was what he'd told himself.

After taking a deep breath, he slowly exhaled out and turned to his faithful minion who'd been playing with stuffed animals in the corner. "GIR, fetch me my smallest tools. All of them."

"Okieee dokieeeee!" the little robot screeched as he scurried off to complete the task.

While GIR went to work on that, Zim pulled up the initial PAK design that he'd stored away. He was going to have to dig into the compartments that were discreetly placed behind the actual inner workings of his system. There had been more than he originally noticed, and some of them barely large enough for his hands to reach.

As he planned what order to remove the hardware, an assortment of tools and little green army men were dumped on the bench.

"Here you go! Did I do good?"

"Yes, that'll do," Zim quietly replied as he picked the little plastic toys out and discarded them to the floor.

"YEEEEEEEE! Can I go play now?"

"Sure, whatever."

GIR scooped up the army men and wandered off to some other part of the base, leaving his stuffed animals forgotten in the corner. Zim reset his focus and organized the tools. They were pretty standard, but they would get the job done. Once they were sorted in an easy to work with order, he pulled his goggles out and mentally prepared himself.

He could have done this a lot sooner.

But then again, he could also do this any time.

Waiting would just end up prolonging the inevitable. He needed the space before he could even add more equipment. Those pieces were offline anyways, and they would just serve as a painful reminder. What good was it going to do him to stall? He had hours to kill as it was while he waited for the other portion of his plans.

Slowly inhaling, he relaxed his shoulders and reached behind. Zim gently placed his hands on the PAK and the device came off with a soft pop. The life-clock began to tick in his peripheral, and so, he got to work.

One of the things he removed immediately was a drug injector that had been designed to calm him when irrationality had been too high. However, he could tell at a mere glance that it had never been deployed, the pristine tubing full of the clear liquid. After a couple more minutes, he removed a few chipsets that had been tucked away behind the main memory processor.

However, the clock hadn't cared what he was doing, ticking away ever so ceaselessly. As Zim started losing the feelings in his digits, he groaned and closed the PAK up and replaced it. He leaned against the bench, giving himself a moment to rest.

_This is going to be a tiresome evening._

But there was no reason to give up after only one go around, so after allowing himself a brief break, he started up the process again….

After a couple of hours, and quite a few rounds of self-torment, Zim had finally removed the last of the hardware. The final component had been a zapper that was supposed to deliver a small shock to his system when he thought something treasonous. The voltage capacity on it was supposed to be so low, that if it had gone off, he wouldn't have ever noticed. Honestly, that probably got overloaded and what had been shooting electric currents to his spine during the meltdown.

Either way, all of it had been removed. Zim had been sure to be thorough, subjecting himself to torment over and over again.

He gazed down at the collection that cluttered the workbench. There hadn't been a _ton_ of stuff in there, but there were at least a dozen items. Most of them miniscule, which had been easily stored away. Then without a word, he gathered them up in his arms and walked over towards the far wall.

After a brief moment, the wall lowered, revealing a small chamber of flames. He glanced down at the hardware, twisting his lips in disgust. Stepping closer the incinerator, he dumped the load into the dancing flames. The chamber sealed shut once he backpedaled away, wiping his hands against his tunic.

"Well, that takes care of that."

Turning away, he decided to make his way to the medical section of his lab. After passing through the sterilization gate, a small grin swept across his face as he found himself before the synthesization console. The surface was smooth and glossy, not a speck of dust to be seen.

He shifted his attention to the monitor on the side, absorbing the details that were displayed. Everything had been smooth so far as he scanned through the logs looking for any errors or warnings. The mixture was was about to be ready any second.

He could hardly wait.

Several moments passed as he wanted in anticipation. He bounced on the balls of his feet, which allowed pent up energy to flow. And then finally, a sharp ping sounded and the console lifted a small, cylindrical pod from the center. Wisps of cool air flowed out around it.

With great care, he lifted a small tube out of the cylinder and brought it closer to his eye for inspection. The liquid was an opaque cyan hue, which nearly glowed under the light of the monitor. After some minor trial and error, he finally had the perfect mixture designed for his body.

Before, he wouldn't have cared about his small physique, but the Empire had wronged him by allowing his body to stay underdeveloped. The fact that the heirarchy was built upon heights, and those heights had been predetermined had been so stupid.

Zim considered himself lucky that he was still young enough to do something about it…

As he mulled over such facts, he took a syringe and filled it with the newly synthesized compound. Then he removed a glove and rolled up a sleeve. He examined his exposed skin for a moment, a churning feeling settled in his gut.

The syringe suddenly felt heavy in his grasp, so he stole another look at the data on the monitor.

"Computer, are you _sure_ this is safe?"

"Yes. It's made from samples of your own DNA, and I got the rest of the information from the PAK."

"But you know the information stored in there about me was inaccurate. How do I know you're not faulty as well?"

"You do know… you practically built me from garbage, as you've reminded me constantly." The computer went silent for a moment, but then a low hum filled the room. "But Sir, you even went over the calculations yourself, so are you implying that you're-"

"Do not finish that sentence or I will dismantle you."

"Yes, Sir."

Zim exhaled and lifted up the syringe once again. The light danced along the needle, and the liquid sloshed around in the chamber. He did go over the calculations. Repeatedly in fact, until it had made his head dizzy.

It wasn't like the hormones and proteins could actually kill him. They were just that and nothing more.

Steeling himself, he turned his arm to get a good angle and rested the needle against his skin. With a steady hand, he administered the shot. Once the liquid was fully pushed into his system, he casted the syringe aside to the table and shook his arm out.

While it wasn't burning, the site felt slightly sore, but that's to be expected. Zim had boosters in the past. The only difference was this had been something he had made himself. Full of hormones, proteins, and other small nutrients his body had been lacking.

As he stared at his arm, he allowed for the unease to fade. His arm hadn't melted away, and he hadn't gone into shock. He would know in time if it worked as long as he kept up on the injections regularly.

Which reminded him.

Rolling the sleeve back down, he gave a glance towards the console. "Computer, make sure to have each dose ready by this time every night cycle."

"Ugh, do I have to?"

"Yes," he replied with a curt not.

"Okay, fine."

Zim rolled his eyes. Why on Earth the computer had such a broody personality was beyond him. But it functioned, so he couldn't be bothered to do anything about it. Even if the AI was so mouthy.

However, he needed to keep an eye on his schedule. He couldn't take the doses too soon or too late. Nor did he trust his PAK to administer it to him as needed. This was something he would do by hand and keep accounted for.

But finally, he was able to initiate phase one of his plan.

❖❖❖

Waking up from a dreamless sleep, Dib shoved the covers off and hopped out of bed. There was still twenty minutes before he had to actually get ready for school, so he slid into the computer chair. He pulled up all of the new camera feeds he set up around Zim's base and skimmed through the footage from the past five hours.

Zim hadn't left the house at all, nor had his minions.

_At least I know he's not hiding in a toilet again…_

The alien had been regularly attending school again. But ever since his room got raided, nothing happened. At this point, Dib was sure that Zim was messing with him. This had to be another mind trick like the simulation of his wonderful life.

But he would have to wait and see. The alien had been on his guard and Dib hadn't been able to set foot on his property without receiving some kind of injury. His cheek still stung from where a laser grazed him yesterday.

Releasing a heavy sigh, Dib got out of the chair and began his morning routine. He got changed, washed his face, combed his hair, and brushed his teeth. Then he made his way downstairs and found Gaz already at the kitchen table. He took his seat and waited for Foodio 3000 to deliver their breakfast.

"Still no Dad?" Dib asked casually as he poked his pancakes.

"He's still down in the basement working on his next grand invention."

"Oh. I bet it's a shark with a laser beam attached to its head," Dib replied in a half-laugh.

A small smile crept on her face at her brother's joke. "I wouldn't put it past Dad, but no, he said it was some kind of air purifier."

"Ah okay, well maybe we'll see him tonight."

Gaz stabbed a fork into her pancakes. "Probably not."

Dib didn't even reply, since she was most likely right. These days, the two of them saw less and less of their father. He was always waist deep in his work, and constantly panicking about the next big project. Gaz chalked it up to him having a midlife crisis.

But to Dib, their Dad was always in a midlife crisis.

He decided not to dwell on it and finish his food. The two of them ate in silence, and before he knew it, it was time to leave for school. They left the plates on the table, since the robot would insist on doing the dishes otherwise.

Dib collected his bag and held the door open for his sister. The cool autumn air felt nice against his skin as he stepped outside behind her. Gaz pulled out her gameslave and began gaming as the two of them started their fifteen minute walk to the Middle Skool.

Once on campus, the two parted ways, agreeing to meet up at lunch. Dib was grateful that their relationship had improved over the last couple of years. Sure, they got under each other's skin from time to time, but he knew that Gaz would always have his back when it came down to it.

Unlike anyone else he knew. For the most part, Dib continued to be a loner. Grand savior of the Earth, bound by his duty.

That, and everyone still called him crazy.

_If I'm crazy then the rest of the world is just apathetic…_

He marched up the steps of the building and kept his eyes open. For the most part, everything seemed pretty calm. Nothing out of the ordinary.

However, he faltered once he caught a good glimpse at Zim from down the hall. The alien looked worse than he had yesterday. Sure, he'd already noticed that his enemy had a more haggard appearance lately, as if he were sleep deprived. But the bags under his eyes were even more apparent than before. And when was the last time that wig had been combed out?

Wasn't Zim like the biggest neat freak he'd ever come across?

"Okay, there is definitely something up with him," Dib muttered as he shoved his stuff in his locker.

Whatever it was, he was going to go over there and find out...

❖❖❖

"Zim!"

He cringed at the sound of his name. There was no mistaking that voice, he knew it all _too_ well. Zim inwardly groaned and leaned back from his locker.

"What is it, human?"

Dib rubbed the back of his head, confusion apparent on his face. "Well did you catch some kind of alien cold or something?"

"Eh?" Zim cocked a brow. "Why do you ask such nonsense?"

"Because you're acting weirder than normal," he replied in a quiet, low tone.

Zim could hardly believe Dib right now. Seriously? What would he even know about how he acts? Was he implying his disguise was off? He gritted his teeth and folded his arms, sending a challenging glare towards the human.

"I am not."

"You are!" Dib stomped his foot down and gave him an incredulous look. "You haven't actually attempted to take over the world in two weeks. Two whole weeks! What are you planning to do with the Earth?"

_Ah right, the Earth._

Honestly, world domination hadn't even crossed Zim's mind once. Sure, that was what he'd worked tirelessly to achieve in the last couple of years. But now, there was no need to conquer the planet. It served well enough as a basic point of operation.

Besides, he had bigger goals to achieve.

Dib had been standing there patiently, waiting for an answer. Zim relaxed and shrugged his shoulders."I don't care about the Earth."

"Ha, I knew-wait, what?"

"I've been relieved of my mission of taking over this awful, filthy planet. So be grateful."

Dib's eyes went wide. "So you're saying you were finally fired?"

"Zim wasn't fired! No, I just have a new, more important mission that has nothing to do with Earthly matters," He shoved a pointed finger under Dib's chin, "But mark my words human, you do anything to hinder or disrupt me, and it'll be the last thing you _ever _do."

"Yeah, we'll see about that…" Dib replied, shoving the hand away from his face.

Dib wasn't worth his time, so Zim ignored the last comment and slammed his locker shut. He just wanted to go home and be done with this place. But no, he had several more hours where he had to attend Skool. And so, he side-stepped Dib and headed towards class before the first bell could even ring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and thank you for the lovely support you guys have provided so far. I apologize for the delay, or for any downgrades in the writing quality. I had a busy workweek and I didn’t feel too hot this weekend, as I mentioned on tumblr. But I’ve been having a blast writing so far, and there’s more to come.
> 
> I’d like to thank you guys again. I seriously appreciate it :)


	5. A Walking Disaster

Zim inhaled at the sharp pressure of the needle piercing his arm. He figured he would have gotten used to the initial sensation by now, after routinely injecting his doses for the last few days. However, the tenderness remained as he threw aside the empty syringe. A metal claw came down from the ceiling and disposed of it.

He winced at the dark coloration around the site as he pushed his sleeve back down. It was going to take time, and what was a little discomfort for the sake of quenching his thirst for revenge? After all, he'd subjected himself to far worse.

He would _have_ to get used to it eventually.

After what seemed like several moments, he shook his head and wiped at his face. He'd finished his business in the medical section, so he gave the synthesization console one last glance before heading to the communication station.

There was other business that needed to be taken care of.

It only took him a couple of days, but after weighing different options, he finally came up with a solution to procuring a new ship. Even if his Empire had forsaken him, Zim wasn't entirely without resources. He just paid his quarterly bill to Moo-Ping 10, so one particular prisoner came to mind.

He typed away, establishing a private connection to the facility. Zim waited patiently as the call went through, and after a few minutes, a confused looking Vortian wearing a jumpsuit appeared on the screen.

"Hello, Prisoner 777."

"Zim?"

The Vortian gripped his horns, and Zim watched as the alien struggled with something. Sure, he struck fear into the hearts of all his enemies, but this was hardly the first time he called the prisoner.

After a silent pause, Zim nodded slowly. "Yes."

"How? The Empire broadcasted the message that the Irken Exile Zim is dead…"

Zim raised an antenna at the fact, but didn't allow his stern expression to shift. He couldn't show any emotion to this particular prisoner, no matter what information got thrown at him. Instead, he stood straighter, tilting his chin up proudly.

"Dead, huh? Well I'm very much alive as you can see."

The Vortian fidgeted, hope fading fast from his eyes. "Uh, yeah… So what do you need to know this time?"

Now there was the expression Zim knew quite well. At least he hadn't completely lost his touch. With formalities out of the way, it was time to talk business.

"Oh, this call isn't about obtaining knowledge. No, I require something more important from you this time." He folded his arms behind his back. "I want you to use your connections to have ship parts sent to my coordinates."

777's jaw dropped, eyes nearly bulging from his head. "Are you serious? You're a banished criminal who's supposed to be dead."

"While that may be true, I'm still the one holding you prisoner. The bill is coming out of Zim's own monies, not the Empire's." A wicked grin appeared as he side-stepped and revealed three vortian babies in floating pods. "And let's not forget that I have your offspring"

The purple alien's shoulders slumped forward, causing his head to hang low. "I haven't forgotten." He looked back up. "It's just, what you're asking for is way out of my scope of ability?"

"Oh, I know you have connections to a resistance group and the likes." Zim rubbed his chin for a moment, debating if he should place his hand over the destruct button. But a different idea came to mind. "I'll tell you what. You get the parts sent to me, along with the blueprints, and I will release you and your children."

"Do you really mean that?"

"I do."

777 folded his arms across his chest, narrowing his eyes back at Zim. "How do I know you're not just lying and will keep us hostage anyways."

"You'll have to see for yourself. It's not like you have anything to lose. Heck, I can just press the button instead if you'd like." Zim retorted, his palm barely touching the small, red button.

The Vortian held his hands out and shook his head. "Okay, okay! What kind of ship are you looking for?"

"Something more advanced than a Zhook Cruiser."

"Anything else?" he asked in a tired sigh.

"No, I will come up with the rest. But keep this in mind, you do anything to _betray_ me, then it won't just be the Tallests who'll have to worry about me."

"The Tallests?" Prisoner 777 gasped in disbelief as his purple skin paled.

Zim's expression remained firm, unamused. "I didn't stutter."

A tense pause filled the air as the Vortian studied him. The small red eyes had a new kind of fear swirling within them. Zim waited, patience growing thinner by the second. He should have finished the call by now, as per usual, so why was 777 being so difficult now?

But then finally, the prisoner exhaled.

"You have my word."

The corners of Zim's lips curled. "Excellent. We'll keep in touch."

As soon as the call came to a close, he had the floating pods dismissed. Once the children were out of sight, ZIm relaxed his stance with his antennae drooping forward. He could scarcely believe it.

"So the Tallests announced that I'm dead. I bet they're laughing so hard at my expense."

Yet again, his ex leaders only prove just how much of a joke he really had been compared to the rest of his people. It wasn't enough to banish him, no, they had to write him off. Apparently, they thought he was just going to stay down.

Oh, how foolish of them.

"I'll just use this to my advantage. One day, they won't know what hit them..."

He turned on his heel, but as his body twisted in momentum, the room spun even faster. Stomping his foot down, he caught himself before hitting the ground. His head suddenly felt light, as if it would roll off his shoulders at any moment.

"I was trying to calculate when you would pass out." The computer chimed.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Zim groaned as he clutched at his skull.

"Well Sir, you haven't rested in weeks. Now that you're forcing your body to go through even stronger metabolic reactions, it's changing, and you'll need to start sleeping regularly."

"That's dookie! Irkens don't need to rest-" he nearly stumbled over as his vision blurred, "_Fine_, I guess I'll go lie down..."

There was nothing left to do for the night, and the computer did have a point. A point he'd begrudgingly accepted as he dragged his feet to his private quarters.

❖❖❖

Another Monday rolled in, which to Zim had been another day, which also meant another week. He pulled himself out of his sleeping pod and stretched his arms. The internal clock inside of his PAK had indicated it was still early, so he still had plenty of time to ready himself for Skool.

He groaned in annoyance and dismissed the pod, then changed into a fresh uniform. Withdrawing his wig from the PAK, Zim took a good look at it for the first time in awhile. It was matted, and the wisp of 'hair' at the top was tangled. Why it was in such a sorry state was beyond him. But he couldn't wear it now...

He simply asked the computer for a new one and pulled his contacts out.

Donned in both disguise elements, Zim decided to take the maintenance hatch to the ground floor. His PAK legs carried him with ease, and within a few minutes, he found himself in the living room.

The scent of butter and syrup filled the ground floor, and sure enough, GIR and Minimoose were at the kitchen table eating waffles. His gut churned, but despite that, the food smelled wonderful. However, as he walked into the kitchen, he saw several questionable ingredients on the counter.

"Who made the waffles?" Zim asked with a scrutinizing gaze.

"Nyeh!"

He cringed. The last time he had GIR's waffles, he spent several hours vomiting the crap from his system. He'd pass this time.

But he did feel _somewhat_ hungry.

He eyeballed the cabinets and decided it wouldn't hurt to get into his stash. A metal PAK arm reached out and grabbed an irken Snack-Dip off the top shelf. Taking his place at the table, he tore open the snack and proceeded to dig in.

"But, Masta! I made these with peanut butter. Don't you want some?"

Yeah, there was peanut butter sitting on the counter, along with some soap, chocolate chips, charcoal, and chlorine. It was a forty-sixty chance with GIR, so he shook his head as he dipped the stick into the fine, violet powder.

"No, I'm good. I have food right here."

"But it's not FRESH HOMEMADE WAFFLES!" the little robot wailed.

"Nyaah!" Minimoose interjected, using his power to pull a plate closer to Zim

"Don't encourage him," Zim pushed the plate away, "I don't want any."

GIR screamed as he jumped onto the table, flipped the plate over and rolled around in a syrupy mess. His crying grew louder with each passing second, causing Zim's antennae to ache beneath the wig.

"Just calm do-"

He quickly ducked to avoid a goopy waffle that got flung his way. A loud sigh passed his lips as GIR continued his tantrum. That was it. Zim decided that he was done. He pushed himself away from the table and gathered up his snack before it got kicked off the table.

Tilting his head back, he dumped the contents down his throat and chucked the package in the garbage. Then he pointed towards his little purple minion, tiredness apparent on his face.

"Make sure he cleans this mess up when he's done with…" he indicated towards GIR's outwardly display, "..._that._"

Minimoose rolled over mid-air. "Nyah!"

"Good, good."

As he turned to leave, he stopped short and glanced back at his cabinet. His PAK arm extended back out and grabbed a bag of chips to store away. Couldn't hurt to have them for later, after all. He wiped down his uniform and ran his digits through the wig, then exited the kitchen.

"Remember, I want that mess cleaned up before I come back," he called back over his shoulder as he stepped through the front entrance.

GIR's screams could still be heard through the door as it shut behind him. _How bothersome._ Zim hated to admit it, with all its faults, the robot still had his uses and been faithful through thick and thin. Even if he was a detriment at times, it felt _wrong_ to separate from him.

Regardless that the unit had been made of literal garbage, such as the rest of his things.

A bitter laugh escaped him as he dwelled on such facts. He once asked what the "G" in G.I.R. meant, and even the robot itself had no clue. However, after all this time, he had figured it out. What was meant to be a 'Standard Information Retrieval Unit' was actually a '_Garbage_ Information Retrieval Unit'.

_I'm sure Red and Purple thought it suited me well. A malfunctional unit for a defective irken._

He heaved out a shallow breath as he found himself in front of Middle Skool. Time had flown by during his walk, since he'd been lost in thought. To be frank, he wasn't sure how long he'd been standing there.

There was still time to kill, so he loitered around the front courtyard, watching the human teenagers and preteens around him. All of them were relaxed, living out their pathetic lives. On Irk, all of them would be underground at this very moment, training to go into the field of their appropriate professions.

None of them had the faintest of clue of real hardships.

"What are you planning there, Space-boy?"

Scratch that. Most of them hadn't the idea... There was _one_ particular annoying individual...

"Really, Dib?" Zim muttered in a low, grinding voice.

The human stood in front of him and blocked his view of the scene. Zim lifted his head up, unwavering in his stance. He wasn't sure what Dib's insistence of knowing his every move was about.

"Yes. You're obviously planning to do something vile with the humans here in Skool, aren't you?"

Zim couldn't help but moan. How thick was this human child's head? Was he that obsessed that he was completely blind to the obvious? At one point, it may have been an admirable trait in a nemesis, but now it was just downright irksome.

"For the last time, I'm not planning anything." Zim walked passed him to get closer towards the entrance steps. " World domination isn't on my agenda, so we no longer have any business with each other. If you know what's good for you, you'll leave me be." He paused for a moment to let his words sink in. Then he turned back to look Dib straight in the eye. "I won't remind you again."

Dib cackled, a loud echoing laughter. Zim flinched at the loud abruptness and watched as the human struggled to inhale air.

"That's rich. Like I'll ever believe that." He wiped a tear from behind his glasses. "No more business between us? You're an alien from a power hungry race that's hellbent on galactic conquest. I won't stop until you're disposed of, so you don't scare me with your threats."

"You know nothing of my species, _human_," he casually cracked a knuckle, "And trust me, you should be scared."

"Oh, should I? Do you wanna' go?" Dib taunted with fists clenched tight.

"Yes, actually, I do."

He swiveled around and started heading up the steps to the building. That was an easy way to end a conversation. Perhaps the human child would finally leave him alone with that out of the way.

"Hey, don't you walk away from me!"

Zim felt a rough grasp on his shoulder. _Of course it wasn't that easy_. The grip only strengthened, fingers dug deeper into him. He stopped and swung around, punching Dib straight in the jaw. Dib recoiled and cupped his face, anger flashed in his eyes.

"What the hell, Zim?"

"That'll teach you to lay your smelly hands on me," he spat in disgust.

"I'll show you!" Dib retorted, lunging back towards him.

Zim ducked, Dib's fist barely grazed his skull. He hooked his foot behind Dib's knee and brought him down lower. Then he gripped onto his jacket and headbutted his brow against Dib's, dazing the human. He quickly overpowered the human and slammed him to the ground.

Dib's glasses flew off his face, and Zim's fisted claw struck him. _Hard_. Satisfaction welled up at hearing the human's pained grunt as redness bloomed around his left eye. As he reeled his arm back to prepare for another strike, Dib shifted his weight, throwing him off-balance.

Using the opening, Dib grabbed onto his tunic and flipped him. The human quickly repositioned himself and pinned Zim against the harsh gravel using his heel. A howling screech erupted from his throat as he fought against Dib's footing. The heel twisted as he tried to move.

Suddenly, the boot came up and a sharp kick connected with his side. Then the thick sole stomped down onto his squeedily spooch, sending bile up Zim's throat.

Something in him snapped at that very moment, breaking all patience.

"I'm going to rip out your intestines and then strangle you with it!" Zim screamed as he mustered up the strength to shove Dib off.

The pure heat of rage rushed through him, pumping into every fiber of his being. As Dib reoriented himself, Zim got up and turned towards him. A million ideas on how to maim the pathetic human crossed his mind at once. He charged, extending his digits towards Dib's throat.

But he never made contact, but instead, his body got jerked back.

"That's enough!"

A sharp pain shot into his shoulder as his arm twisted behind his back. The grip was strong, and before he knew it, he was lifted up off his feet. He tilted his head back and immediately made eye contact with Coach.

_Oh, Irk..._

"What in blue-blazes is it with you two?"

Dib recollected his glasses off the ground, and before he could do anything else, one of the other teachers had also restrained him. Zim couldn't help but scowl at the human. It was definitely Dib's fault if his cover had just been blown.

Several long moments passed and Coach groaned. "Well, I'm waiting."

Zim glanced back at Dib, but the child shifted his gaze away. Great, he was going to have to do the talking…

"I was minding my own business, but then Dib had to be his big-headed annoying self."

"Hey, that's not true! And for the last time, my head isn't-"

"Yes it is! Don't you tell filthy lies-"

"Quiet!" Coach barked, cutting them both off. He took a deep breath and glared at Dib. "Who threw the first punch?"

"Zim did." Dib responded in less than a heartbeat.

The rage returned, and Zim squirmed in the teacher's grasp."You put your grotesque hands on me first!"

"Okay, I don't get paid enough for this." He tightened his grasp on Zim and brought him closer, away from Dib. "You're both going to sit in detention for two weeks. And I want you guys to submit an apology letter. Ten pages each."

Dib's expression fell, jaw ajar. "That isn't very fair."

"Well you should know better than hitting a disabled kid."

"Zim isn't-"

"Not another word. Now we're going to report to Mr. Kramps for detention," Coach commanded as he dragged Zim along, motioning the other teacher to do the same

Zim gave up struggling and accepted his fate. He'd been subjected to this 'detention' before, in fact, on several different occasions. Another round of it wasn't the end of the world. He was glad that at least his cover hadn't been blown after all...

❖❖❖

Dib's eye was still throbbing. The swelling had gone down, but anytime he moved a muscle, even the smallest movement, he could feel the sharp twinge. And here he was, stuck in detention with the jerk who'd given him the shiner.

Glancing over at Zim, he looked as if he were somewhere else, far away from here. The alien's eyes were glazed over, tongue hanging out of the side of his mouth. Dib couldn't believe his luck. Of all the times they've fought, they had to get detention _this_ time.

_If Zim hadn't made such a fricken scene._

He huffed out a hot breath and rested his right cheek in his hand. Zim hadn't even noticed that he'd been glaring daggers at him, still lost in his world. Dib sucked his teeth.

_Of course he doesn't care… I have no idea what his problem is…_

After what seemed like several long quiet minutes, awareness finally shone in the alien's eyes. They stared at each other in complete silence. And then after a moment, in an act of spite, Dib gave his nemesis the finger.

"Ugh, why are you like that?" Zim asked as he grimaced at Dib's vulgar display.

"Like what?"

He gave an exasperated sigh. "Constantly looking for a fight, Dib-stink."

Dib's nose crinkled at the accusation, agitating the bruised eye. "Remember the time you broadcasted my workout montage for the _entire_ universe to see?"

"Yeah, that was gross, but oh so, so funny," Zim replied, fondness coated his voice.

"Well, I still hate you for that."

"You whiny smeet," Zim bit out.

Did he just hear him right? "A what?" he asked in a loud whisper.

"You heard me."

Dib's cheeks reddened. He had no idea what he'd been called, but he wasn't gonna take it, whatever it was. "Y-Yeah? Well you're a jerk."

"Oh, really?" The alien scowled, his fake pupils shrinking. "If you want to play that game, may I remind you that you attempted to dissect me after five minutes of knowing each other?"

"Because you're an alie-"

"Quiet down you two! Don't make me send you to the underground detention room."

Dib clamped his lips shut and sunk down lower in his seat. He really didn't want to get sent down there. One time in the underground classrooms had been enough in his lifetime, and he swore he'd never get sent down there again.

He shuddered at just the mere thought.

Zim had also hushed, shifting in his seat so that he could watch the scene out the window. Dib would have thought his enemy would have tried to get the last word in, but no, not a single attempt was made.

He studied the alien from his desk. Even though he had fixed up the terrible excuse for a wig since last week, the dark green bags were still present under his eyes. If anything, Zim looked as if he were about to nod to sleep.

That was laughable.

One moment, Zim was like a ticking bomb. Then the next minute? A calm, calculating being. Tired and bored, absolutely apathetic to anything around him. Yet, anything could send him in a fit of fury as if a switch had been flicked between the two.

Who even was he these days?

Also, what was that nonsense of a bigger mission than taking over the Earth? If that were true, why was he wasting time with such a thing as skool? Things weren't adding up. And honestly, had Coach not stepped in, he probably would have had more than just a black eye. There was more to the volatile alien than Dib had initially believed, that's for sure.

The fact still remained, he wasn't going to let Zim go on doing whatever he wanted.

But what did Zim want?

That question weighed heavy on Dib's mind as he tenderly felt the skin beneath the bruise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, y'all! Thanks for reading the fifth installment of Against the Machine. I hope you guys enjoyed it as much as I had fun writing it. It's chapters like these I seriously love writing the most. Once again, I cannot thank you guys enough for the support. I hadn't expected the story to take off this much, but I'm happy to be along for the ride.
> 
> I'm sure some of you noticed that I capitalized GIR this time around. I was sick of writing his name in the lazy way, so I went back in the previous four chapters and corrected this in there as well for the sake of consistency. Thank goodness for find and replace, am I right?
> 
> But yeah, we've reached a milestone in the story and things will surely progress. Thank you again for sticking it with me, and I look forward to getting the next chapter out.


	6. Interpretations

Dib was good at a lot of different things, and one of them was being able to take a punch. This time, however, he hadn't left the last fight unscathed. He glowered at his reflection in the bathroom mirror beneath dim lights. While the discoloration around his left eye had lightened, it was still prominent against his pale skin.

"Did he really need to go that far?" he grumbled as he leaned away.

"Let's be real, you probably deserved it."

Dib winced as he turned to see his sister leaning against the door frame. Her arms were folded across her chest, and she studied him with a small smirk. He wasn't sure how long she'd been standing there.

"Now why would you say that?"

"Just the sound of your voice makes anyone want to punch you." She laughed and held her hand up as Dib opened his mouth. "But for real though, Zim hasn't even done anything in almost a month. Even if he denies it, he was probably canned."

"Okay, so it wasn't just me who thought that."

"Well Zim is a pretty bad liar," Gaz added.

"Yeah, true," he sighed. Then taking a deep breath, he put his back to the mirror and leaned against the sink. "It doesn't matter to me what happened. He's still an alien."

She raised a brow at him. "And your point?"

Dib threw her a look of disbelief for asking the obvious. "I won't rest until I have him sliced open on an autopsy table, learning all the secrets of his species."

"And there's your problem. Ever wonder why your little paranormal investigations are a bust?" She paused for a brief moment, giving a chance for the words to sink in, "Your methods are too aggressive. While they may work in say, a video game, this is the real world."

"Okay, then. What would you suggest?"

"Have you ever tried talking? Or like any form of attempt at gaining some trust?"

Talking? Trust? He nearly choked on his own breath. Was she being serious right now? Then again, it was Gaz he was speaking to, so probably.

"As if a creature like Bigfoot would join me for a cup of coffee and allow me to interview him," he deadpanned.

She shrugged and turned out the bathroom door. "I'm just saying, you never know…"

He frowned at the comment, but didn't reply as she walked away. Gaz wouldn't understand. In fact, nobody but him would understand. His work was going to lead to ground breaking discoveries and help push humanity forward. There was so much to learn.

So yes, his methods were absolutely necessary, and the proof had been by the sheer number of times he'd stopped Zim's plans to destroy the world. Without him, they all would have been goners by now.

As he mulled over such thoughts, he headed back to his room and plopped back down at his desk. Different camera feeds were displayed on the multi-monitor setup. He cupped his chin, studying the details of all the different images. Some of them were playing back from the night before, while the rest were live streams.

One recording caught Zim taking out garbage. Why would the alien take the garbage out himself late at night? Was he just that much of a neat freak? Then curiously enough, another camera had caught him lying on his roof, staring upwards. Why the roof of all places?

Had Zim been waiting for something?

Or had he been simply star-gazing?

Dib focused on that recording and paused. Then he zoomed in and focused the image. While the alien had been wearing his crummy disguise, Dib still had a hard time reading the expression. It definitely wasn't one that he saw often, if at all.

Actually, if anything…

_I would almost say Zim looked sad here._

But what would his nemesis be upset about? He looked fine during detention the day before, maybe bit sleep-deprived, but alright otherwise. So the idea that Zim was star-gazing on his roof, feeling sad about something was hard to believe. Then again, as he thought about it, Dib started noting that some of the things Zim did were mundane. A lot of them without rhyme or reason…

However, there just _had_ to be a pattern, or some sort of clue to Zim's odd behavior as of late…

❖❖❖

The grinding of the drill echoed through the lab as Zim worked with a device in his hands. His tongue poked out from the corner of his lips while his brows were furrowed. Sparks flew off the hardware, but the goggles prevented them from flying into his eyes.

He set the drill down and lifted up a solder iron, then studied the project in his hand. The device, at a glance, looked like a pile of scrap with red and yellow cables running through random sections. While the weapon he pulled it out of had been totaled, the circuits were still good and would serve as a great base for a new blaster.

Zim brought it closer to get a better look at a connector, but a sharp pang ebbed in his arm at the motion. The iron jerked to the side and jabbed the edge of his palm, completely missing the mark. He bit back a cry and released the tool.

As the iron fell, he also lost his grip on the device, causing the metal to collapse in a pathetic heap on the tool bench. _It would be great if I could just solder the pieces together properly_, he thought, attempting to rub the soreness from his arm.

The twisted pile of cables and scraps taunted him as another display of his inability to perform even the simplest of tasks. He bit down on his lower lip as he narrowed his eyes at the mess. After a moment, he relaxed, letting all of tension in his body go.

How long had he been working anyways?

"Computer, what time is it?"

The AI sighed, "It's noon," in a weary drawl.

Zim straightened back up. "Already? I've been at it for over several hours," he murmured, pulling the goggles off his face. Then he tossed them onto the bench, the rest of the equipment rattled on impact.

His gaze drifted over to the rest of his work, which was mostly torn apart weapons, old computers, and any other unused equipment he had lying around. He hadn't actually built anything yet. All he'd been able to do for the last week was make messes of scraps and try to salvage some of the junk.

Then again, what was the rush? Perfection takes time, and since he was stuck here, without a mission or Empire, there was no reason to get sloppy. After all, who was he trying to impress?

There was nothing left for him-

Shaking his head violently, Zim backed away. _I can't work like this… I need to take a walk or something..._

Putting the work behind him, he made his way over to the elevator. As he stepped inside, he could feel his breathing deepen. He needed to relax.

No need to think about trivial things.

He was perfectly _fine_.

Once he made it to the ground floor, he stepped out and glanced at the kitchen window. It was mostly sunny, so decent weather at least. He would just need to grab GIR, then he would be on his way out.

He found his robot sitting on the living room floor with random items of junk surrounding him. Minimoose was on the couch with a bucket of popcorn floating next to him. While GIR loved television, he was more preoccupied with his 'toys' than the Lady Prison show that Minimoose enjoyed so much. Zim was just glad that the robot's newest acquirements weren't covered in mud, but the one in his hand had caught his eye.

"Nyoooom!" GIR swerved the little silver box through the air.

Zim stepped closer to get a better look. It appeared to be some sort of primitive storage device that obviously hadn't come from the base. "GIR, what is that you're fooling around with?"

The robot sat upright and held the metal box out on display. "Oh, I eated this out of Dib's computah!"

"Now, why did you do that?" Zim asked, burying his face into his hands.

"Because it was yummy," the robot replied matter of factly.

_No wonder he's been so insufferable lately._ He straightened and pointed at the door. "Go give that back to him."

"But I don't wanna'," GIR brought the drive close to him and hugged it before putting it in his chest compartment."It's mine."

"No it's not." He shook his head, finger still pointed at the door. "Go return it at once."

Water welled up in GIR's ocular ports, and his little body began to tremble. Zim held his breath and stood firm, preparing himself. The robot began to wail with his head thrown back dramatically.

"Nyah!"

"No Minimoose, I don't care what the Dib keeps on that thing. I have no use for it."

The popcorn was lowered onto the couch, then the moose paused the television. "Neh."

"Yes, I know you're trying to watch T.V. and that you didn't do anything wrong." Zim pinched between his eyes. "I will handle it."

However, GIR only cried louder, causing the objects in the room to vibrate near breaking point. He threw his weight to the floor and curled up in a ball. With each gasping cry, the small pool around his head grew larger.

"GIR, stop this." The robot ignored him, wallowing in its tears. "GIR!"

It was too late. GIR was in full tantrum mode, and once it got this bad, there was only one way to get it to stop. Zim hated it, but he had no other choice but to resort to bribery...

"Okay, fine. If you go give that back, then I'll take you to that disgusting taco place."

"CrAzY TACOS?" GIR stood up and saluted like he hadn't cried at all. Then he pulled the drive out of the compartment and threw on his disguise. "I will be right back!' He announced before charging out of the house.

❖❖❖

"But that doesn't explain why-"

Dib jolted in his seat as the doorbell rang, his entire train of thought got disrupted. He decided to ignore it, since Gaz was downstairs. She could get it. But a moment later, the bell dinged again, sending an echo through the house. Then it went off again half a second later.

Then again.

"Dib, get the door!" His sister's voice called from the living room.

"You answer it! You're already down there, so just pause the game."

"I'm in a raid, jerkwad! We're in the middle of an encounter, and I'm the last tank still alive. So. Get. The. Door!"

The bell started chiming constantly, without a beat between each ring. The noise vibrated in his ears, and he could feel a major headache coming on. Dib groaned and pushed himself out of his seat, then made his way downstairs.

"If we wipe, then it's your fault," she stated as he walked passed the couch to get to the door.

"Yeah, whatever. You and that dumb addiction of yours," he grumbled back at her.

She whipped her head around, and there was an accusatory fire in her eyes. "Oh, you want to talk about addictions? Well let me tell you- Oh, crap," Gaz pulled the headset mic closer to her mouth, "Quick Treckie, brez me."

Dib rolled his eyes as his sister diverted her attention back to the game. He opened the door and was surprised to find a not person, but Zim's little robot in the dog suit standing there. The dog looked up innocently at him with those fake eyes.

"Hiya, Mary!" GIR greeted him as he pulled something out behind his back. He jumped up and shoved the object in Dib's hands. "Master told me to give this back to you."

"Wait, why-"

"We're gonna' go get some of those tacos now. Bye!" GIR screeched as he turned around and flew off with his jet legs.

Dib stood there in the doorway with his jaw hung open, watching the trail of smoke dissipate. Just when he thought things couldn't have been more bizarre, within his grasp was the stolen drive from the trashed computer.

_D-did that just happen?_

❖❖❖

"GIR, stop tugging on the leash," Zim groaned as he pulled his disguised robot back.

"But the tacos, they call me," he whimpered back.

"And you will get your tacos, so stop pulling. Do you _want_ to draw attention to us?"

Gir paused, turning towards his master with his head cocked to the side."Yes?"

"No… No, you don't."

Zim hated having to indulge in his minion's menial whims, but he was going to leave the house anyways. It would have been better to go to the park or something, but no, he has to go to some vile, earthen food place.

The stench of overcooked meat and seasonings wafted past him. He swallowed thickly, keeping the nausea down. As the two stepped past the electric sliding doors, a ding sounded, and he nearly flinched at the noise. Once fully inside, he then scanned the scene, the establishment hadn't been too crowded. Only a few people were waiting to place their orders.

With GIR in tow, he marched up to the end of the line. The robot danced in his little suit next to him, singing some little jingle about tacos over and over. Zim just wanted to hurry up and place the order, but the line, despite being small, was moving ever so slowly.

"I don't know what you see in this place…"

"It's the best!"

_Please, you go to one food establishment, you've been to them all,_ Zim thought bitterly. He recalled the awful place he had to work at on Foodcourtia. But that was then, and had nothing to do with the now.

After a long five minutes, it was finally their turn to order. Zim folded his arms and let GIR order, and while the robot ordered a list of tacos, and then a burrito, he scanned the menu overhead.

_Nachos, huh? _

He hadn't eaten all day… and if he thought about it, he was feeling a bit famished. It wasn't like he could order delivery from space anymore, now that the Tallests proclaimed his 'death'. His eye twitched at the thought, and so he decided to go for it…

Maybe it wouldn't _kill_ him.

"Anything else?" The lanky teen behind the register asked.

Zim snapped his attention back to the server. "Uh yes, I'll take an order of your nachos."

"Would you like to make that a grande?"

"Sure, whatever," he replied casually.

"Okay, and what would you like to drink with that?"

Zim could feel his patience thinning. Why was this food drone constantly asking him things? Was it so hard to order a simple meal? A tired sigh passed his lips. "Just a regular Poop," he stated while he pulled out some cash.

"Is that for here or to go?"

"Ugh, for here. Now stop asking me so many questions!"

He didn't even wait for the human to call out his total, since he'd calculated it in his head already. So after dividing out the cash, he chucked it at the server and stood off to the side. Then he looked down at his minion and handed over his end of the leash.

"GIR, go find us a table. Preferably a _clean _one."

"Okay!"

The robot scurried off towards the side of the restaurant where the majority of the windows were. Zim knew there was little chance that his insane robot understood the concept of clean, but it was worth a shot anyways. At least he always carried a can of disinfectant around as a safety precaution.

Then after a few moments, his order was called out and delivered to the pick-up counter. The tray was surprisingly heavy for its size, but he shrugged, and carried away from the counter. He found GIR sitting at a booth in the far corner where the window was widest.

Before Zim would even set the tray down, he had to look over the surface. It was somewhat tidy considering GIR's standards, but he didn't want to chance it. So he pulled out the disinfectant and sprayed a thin layer on the table.

Humans were incredibly filthy, after all. So many, many germs.

GIR began drumming the table in anticipation. "Tacos, tacos, tacos," he chanted as Zim placed the tray down.

He didn't even have the chance to sit down before the minion tore into the order, ripping the food out from the paper wrapping. Zim groaned in annoyance and slid into the booth and pulled his soda and food off the tray before GIR could get any meat sauce on them.

Watching the robot only served as a reminder on why he didn't like going to these kinds of places with him.

GIR was a complete eating machine, and Zim couldn't help but cringe at the disgusting view of him shoving two tacos into his disguise at once. There was a lot of smacking involved. He decided to ignore the minion and examined his own order instead.

The nachos _looked _harmless, but up until now, he'd always had some delivered to Earth when he needed a pick-me-up.

_This is not one of those instances. It's just for nutritional needs_, he affirmed quietly to himself.

With an intense stare, he watched as small wafts of steam rose from the melted cheese. It was only going to get cold, so he tugged a chip out from the side and brought it closer to him. After a brief moment of hesitation, he squeezed his eyes shut and took a bite.

The cheese wasn't melting his tongue as he chewed away. It was warm, but not in a bad way. After finishing the mouthful, he perked up and grabbed another.

"Aw, you like them!" The GIR pointed out warmly after taking a bite of his burrito.

"They're nothing like the ones back on Irk, but I guess they're edible," he grumbled before shoving a cheese laden chip in his mouth. "Not _terrible_ to say the least."

"I'm so glad Master likes his nachos. We should come back tomorrow."

"No, not tomorrow," he looked back at GIR with a hint of a smile on his face, "…but I wouldn't be opposed to do this again sometime."

GIR squeaked in excitement and dug into his last taco, spilling sour cream all over his suit. Zim huffed in agitation at the gross display and then worked on finishing his own food. He was going to have to wash the robot's disguise when they got home.

In fact, he was probably going to have to resort to another bribe in order to get it done...

❖❖❖

_What does it mean?_

_There's gotta' be a logical explanation here._

So many different thoughts passed through Dib's mind as he paced within the small space of his room. His eyes were locked onto the hard drive sitting on his desk. At first he'd thought it may have been booby-trapped, but after careful inspection, Dib found that the drive was intact- save for a few bite marks. He even ran it through a scanner to see if it was loaded with malicious malware or viruses instead.

But nope, it was completely clean. There was nothing else on the drive but his original files. Hell, the fact that his original files were even still on it was a pure miracle. The robot had always been an weird one, but the thing that bothered Dib the most was the fact that _Zim_ had ordered the minion to return it.

_Zim's a selfish jerk, so why? This has to be an attempt to throw me off his trail._

He stopped in his tracks, recalling what GIR had said before he took off.

"They were going to get tacos, weren't they?"

With a gentle push, he moved the drive out of the way and began navigating the different windows he had open on his desktop. He opened up the live feed for the taco place he'd installed years ago, but there was no sign of Zim on any of the cameras. He checked the time in the bottom right corner of his screen.

Right, it had been a couple of hours since he'd gotten the drive back.

He turned his focus back on the feed. Nothing looked destroyed or out of place, so if Zim had gone there with the minion, they didn't leave a mess. With a peaked curiosity, he rewound the recording until he saw Zim marching into the restaurant.

Almost like a normal person, the alien had apparently waited in line with GIR by his hip. Now why the establishment allowed 'pets' into the facility was beyond Dib, but that was a minor detail. He watched as Zim made it to the counter. .

There wasn't any sound, but from the looks of it, they had placed quite a large order.

Then fast forward a few minutes into the recording, Zim had picked up the order and carried it over to one of the booths. Was Dib seeing things, or better yet, was this all a dream? Zim had actually sat down at a restaurant with other people surrounding him? He normally saw the dog or maybe the moose go into those places, but the alien usually never joined them...

His eyes grew wide with shock as he continued watching. "Is he actually eating the nachos? Zim hates human food!"

Stealing another glance at the drive, he just couldn't help but wonder once again, _what does it all mean? _He ran his fingers through his messy hair, and looked back at the screen in disbelief. Out of all the unusual things Zim had done lately, this definitely took the cake.

On the surface, it seemed normal, but Dib had been studying the alien for _years_.

This was not a typical Zim-like behavior by any means.

_I'm so confused…_

He pushed away from his desk and went over to where he stored his briefcase and pulled it out. Then opening it up on his bed, he checked through the contents. His handcuffs were in there, extra lenses for his camera, a thumb drive, pens, and a paper pad.

Everything he needed, minus the actual camera.

After scanning the space around the room, he spotted it on the nightstand. After he collected the camera, he put the strap over his head and allowed the device to rest securely against him. Then he closed up his briefcase and pulled on his signature black trench coat.

He had enough of sitting around and watching videos.

Dib was going to have to get up and personal. If he were lucky enough, he could find an opportunity to get into the base. Then perhaps maybe, just maybe, he could figure out what Zim was up to. He turned off the lights to his room and headed back downstairs. Gaz was still absorbed in her MMO, so he didn't say anything as he left through the front door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope y'all enjoyed this chapter. I apologize for the delay. Last week I caught a cruddy cold, so I would come home from work unable to form coherent thoughts. I'm also trying to pace myself on this fic and not drain myself.
> 
> But I want to thank you all for the words of encouragement and comments y'all leave. I read every single one of them, even the funny ones. This fic has been a joy to write so far. I have a ton of different things I want to explore with Zim's character growth, as well as Dib's. Just when I think I've planned it all, I'm adding new stuff to the plotting document. I've even been planning some pieces of artwork to go with some of the later scenes, and possibly a couple of one-shots that go into this AU.
> 
> Anyways, enough of my rambling. I hope y'all have a wonderful holiday! I hope to have the next chapter out before Christmas, but if not, it'll be shortly after :)


	7. An Alteration in Perceptions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, but here's my biggest update yet! I hope y'all like it :)

"Computer, prepare to run a bio-diagnostics on me," Zim barked as he marched into the medical ward of his lab.

A frustrated growl passed his lips as he rolled up his sleeves, exposing his arms to the cool, sterile air. He held them out, then a blue light washed over them as the computer executed a scan. After a few moments, a projected image full of charts and numbers flashed alongside a diagram of the bones and muscles in his arms.

As he read over the data, he didn't notice anything out of the ordinary. His upper extremities seemed fine. In fact, almost unchanged, save for minor swelling in the muscles. So there was some fluid retention, but it was nothing to be alarmed about.

But by Irk did his arms _ache_, and his legs were no better.

With a wave of his hand, he dismissed the image, then physically examined the skin around his usual injection site. The flesh was inflamed around his upper arm from the repeated needle entry on the site. He chalked it up as a necessary inconvenience for the sake of his plans.

So with a heavy sigh, he picked up the syringe from the cart beside him. His fears were quelled, and since there was nothing wrong with his arms, he would just carry out the daily routine. He'd just have to swap to the other arm and be more mindful about giving each site a chance to recover.

Once the compound was injected into his system, he hung his head and leaned against the table. With each deep breath, he tried to allow his muscles to relax, but instead, a weighted fatigue clung to his shoulders. _Seems like tonight is another night that needs to be cut short,_ he mused quietly.

At least on the bright side, Zim had gotten quite a bit of work done today, preparing the components for his new set of munitions. However, one of the more _annoying_ side effects of the increased metabolic reactions was that he wore himself out a lot quicker. Sleep was becoming a normal part of his routine with all-nighters being far less frequent.

"But first there's something I want to know before retiring…"

Withdrawing his PAK legs, the spider-like appendages carried him out of the medical ward and over to the call station in his lab. He hovered over the console and typed away in quick succession, then pulled away to get the entire screen in view.

"Hello there, Prisoner 777," he greeted calmly as soon as the call was answered.

"Hey, Zim," 777 replied with a tired look in his red, beady eyes.

The corner of Zim's lips twitched at the lack of enthusiasm the vortian displayed. While he would normally chastise the prisoner, he was barely able to hold his own posture as it was, the PAK doing most of the support.

"I'm going to get straight to the point. What's the status of the next shipment?" He inquired.

"It should be there in two days."

Zim perked up at the news, his clawed hands clasped together. "Good, good. And the hyper-drive?"

"That part will arrive within a week or so."

A toothy grin spread across his face."Excellent."

"So about our deal…" 777's voice faltered as he shrunk back at Zim's menacing scowl.

"I haven't forgotten!" He folded his arms over his chest and held his chin up. "I'm not a filthy _liar_ like some other unsavory, inferior Irkens.

777 straightened and lifted a pointed digit up. "But I didn't call you a liar."

"Silence!" Zim shouted before huffing out a breath of hot air. "I will hold up my end once I have a complete, operational ship. I don't entirely trust your skills, so I can't have you running off before I have a finished product."

"Okay, if you say so," the vortian replied in a shallow tone.

"I _did_ say so." He slid a palm against his face, fingers dragging across the skin. "We've discussed this already. You'll just have to see for yourself."

Zim terminated the call before 777 could have the chance to reply. His patience had worn thin, so he couldn't bear to hear even one more syllable out of the vortian's mouth. He was sick of dealing with morons for the day after GIR had taken up most of his patience by not following orders.

As he let out a weary hiss, his vision of the console blurred. The fatigue was ever so present, and finally, he had enough. The ire receded as Zim's feet firmly touched the ground. While he balanced his weight, he rubbed his head and contemplated going to bed.

However, the red emergency lights began to flicker.

"Ugh, what is it now?"

"Master, I have located an unauthorized connection within the network," the computer announced.

"Argh, it must be the Dib," he groaned, shaking his head in annoyance. "How long has it been there?"

The lights stopped flashing, and the computer waited for a brief moment before replying, "Awhile."

Zim's attenaes flicked back as he pinched between his eyes. "And you're just now telling me?"

"Well, you were busy."

"Whatever," he sighed, headed towards his private chambers to turn in for the night. "Just get rid of it, and send a little going away gift while you're at it."

❖❖❖

Dib sat cross-legged beneath the living room window of Zim's house. Resting on his lap was a laptop geared with a signal reader that he had built himself. The parts were of great quality, since he gathered them up from the stash in his Dad's basement. After spending the last few days using his alien hunting equipment to gather information, he noticed the output signals coming from the base had changed.

"Oh, crud!" He shouted as a jittery, pink triangle suddenly flashed in the center of the screen. "You've gotta' be kidding me."

Smoke rose up from Dib's laptop as it overheated. Sparks flew, and he jerked his headphones off as a loud screech blasted from them. Great, _another_ laptop gone to waste! This one hadn't even lasted half a day and barely picked up anything. All he managed to snag was the call that Zim had been on!

He exhaled, realizing getting angry was pointless. Instead, he reassessed the facts that had been presented to him. _So he still doesn't have a working ship? Figures..._

At least that explained the package that was suddenly dropped into his base the other day.

However, what was the deal that Zim had spoken about? Why was he getting shipments from some random prisoner from space anyways? What about the alien's leaders? He usually requested supplies or support from them.

_Doesn't this only prove he was fired? And if he was, then why?_

Dib ended up with even more questions than he started with.

He wanted to scream in frustration as he tugged at fistsfuls of hair. It was just a never ending stream of them. When would it all stop? How did it even get this way in the first place? It seemed like a week ago that the two of them were duking it out over something stupid. Like the time Zim tried to replace every pair of pants on Earth with alien parasites.

But no, those common _deadly_ events no longer occurred. In fact, the last incident had been almost two months ago. And if he really thought about it, all that came of it was melted gunk in the middle of the park.

But now? The alien was just completely acting out of character from the being Dib met when he was eleven. Even so, if Zim was making some sort of deals with other species than his own, then that was pretty shady.

He definitely needed to get his hands on some more details.

Chucking the remains of the ruined equipment into the grass, Dib carefully set himself up in a crouching position below the window. The base's defenses hadn't come after him, at least not yet, so he maybe he could sneak in there and see what it was that Zim was working on.

He peered in through the bottom of the window and analyzed the situation the best he could. The room was dark with only flashes of light coming from the television. It was on some weird reality show, and sitting on the couch watching was Zim's minions.

It was going to be difficult to sneak past them, especially the moose, but they were enthralled with the program. If he stuck to the shadows, then his chances weren't too bad, Dib reasoned. _Let's see if the little robot left the window unlocked..._

His fingers pressed up against the bottom of the window, and he noticed there wasn't a gap there. But he would try anyways, since Dib wasn't about a little thing like that stop him. He inhaled and pushed, and the moment he put pressure against the cool metal, jolts of electricity shot through him.

Dib cried out as he tumbled back. As he landed, he gasped for air, his nerves screaming as if they were on fire. Of course Zim would have upgraded his defenses!

He didn't have much time to think on such facts, the garden gnomes turned, their focus right on him. Ignoring the throbbing pain in his arms, he scrambled to his feet and gathered up his ruined equipment. A laser shot streaked passed him as he weaved to the side.

He made it to the fence line, the gnomes crowding close behind. With the adrenaline pumping through his system, he clambered over the dingy wooden barrier. Another shot whizzed overhead as he stuck a landing.

_Safe!_

The gnomes never followed him out this far, and the fence made it so that he wasn't in line of sight. As he calmed his breathing, he knelt down and started shoving loose scraps into his coat pockets. Once the pieces were secured in his jacket, he got up and slid the rest of partially melted hardware under his arm.

He figured the only thing he could do now was make his way home.

While Dib walked down the darkened street, he shifted through the different thoughts swimming around in his headspace. All the questions kept getting jumbled, like mismatched pieces, but honestly, he had to admit to himself that today hadn't been a total bust. He discovered a few little things about his arch-nemesis.

Just a little more time, and further investigation, and he would be able to put the puzzle together.

For now, he just needed to get home and work on replacing his equipment and write up some documentation while the acquired information was fresh in his mind.

❖❖❖

Mundane and absolutely boring days had passed, filling up the week. Then finally, their detention sentence had come to a close. Zim hadn't thought of it as all that bad. Although, the air in the room had been quite stale. He wasn't going to miss the cobwebs that dressed the corners of the room, or the thin sheet of dust that coated everything.

But he was going to miss not having to listen to a useless teacher drone on and on. Or the fact he didn't actually have to think about acting normal. He was able to sit there and just… just be.

However, there was such a thing of too much of a good thing, he'd come to learn. After all, he didn't particularly enjoy being confined to small places for long. As a smeet, that little fact had gotten him into all sorts of trouble. But compared to the underground world of Irk, this hardly compared. At least there was a window, despite the dirt-child being so nosy on why Zim insisted on sitting next to it.

Any minute, they would be dismissed, and then he wouldn't have to be so close to Dib any longer.

And just as the thought crossed his mind, Coach strolled in through the door. As always, the large burly man had an everlasting stern etched on his face.

"Okay you two, today's the day you can go back to normal classes."

Without a word, he shuffled out of his desk, and Dib followed in suit. He marched up to the front, headed for the door, but then the large teacher side-stepped into their path.

"Oh no, not so fast." Coach held his hand out. "You two need to submit the apology letters I assigned."

Zim cringed. He'd forgotten about that minute detail. Stealing a glance over at Dib, he watched as his enemy's facial expression soured.

"Don't have it, and I refuse to write one," Dib bit out.

Coach stared down at him with a hard gaze. "Son, I don't appreciate your tone."

Zim stood idly by as he watched the tension rise between the two earthlings. He knew that look in Dib's eye, having been on the receiving end of it before, so child was only about to dig himself into a deeper hole. But at least the attention was shifted away from him.

"First, I'm not your 'Son'. My name is Dib," he said as his voice shook, " And secondly, ten pages is absurd. And lastly, Zim doesn't deserve an apology letter at all. He's an alien!

"That's it, you get another two weeks of detention for insubordination. And also _Dib_, that isn't very ethical of you. Our ancestors were immigrants as well."

"That's not-"

"Not another word," Coach cut him off and turned to Zim, "Please tell me you have yours."

He gulped down some air and smiled as politely as he could, but man, was it difficult. Him write an apology letter of the sorts? Zim apologizes to no pig smellies! Especially of the Dib variety. Even so, his cover was on the line, so he needed to work himself out of this situation.

"I'm sorry my Coach-teacher, I don't have it with me. But if you let me-"

"Not you too," he groaned. "That's it. You _both_ are stuck here for another two weeks. If either of you don't turn in that letter by next Friday, I will have to set up a parent teacher conference with your folks."

Zim rolled his eyes as the two of them were directed back to their seats. Dib hissed curses under his breath as Coach left the room, the string of words getting more irritating by the second.

"It's just detention, so no big deal. You could easily escape if you wanted." Zim commented as he indicated towards the window, then the air duct.

In response, Dib shot him a look of disbelief. "If it's no big deal then why haven't _you_ tried getting out yet?"

"Because it's all the same. No matter where I am in this facility, I learn nothing."

"So why even bother coming to skool?" The human asked, cocking a brow.

"I'm just trying to lay low here," he replied so naturally without thought

His enemy clearly honed in on that phrase, a curious sheen shone behind those lenses. _I shouldn't have said that_, Zim quietly kicked himself for oversharing. He frowned as the human scribbled something down on a notepad that seemed to have apparated into his hands.

"And for what reason?" Dib leaned in closer. "Care to share, space-boy?"

"Ugh, it's beyond your inferior basic comprehension." He rested his head against the palm of his hand and shrugged it off. "I still don't understand why you're so upset."

Dib slapped the pad down back onto the desk and slid down further in his seat. "Because my Dad is about to get involved, and if he finds out that I've been getting detention, he'll flip."

How much was this child going to complain? Zim couldn't help but wonder, and he sincerely hoped that the rest of their sentence wasn't going to be full of this pitiful whining.

"Then just do as the teacher says," he replied in a low tone after a brief silence.

He watched as a red hue spread across Dib's cheek, his eyes growing wide. He held his breath, waiting to see what nonsense the human would spout next. A moment passed, and the tense silence was broken as Dib let out a growl.

"I can't believe you right now," Dib turned away and began bouncing his foot, his voice becoming a harsh whisper, "You know what? One day, they'll all see the truth about you."

Zim scoffed. "Yeah, okay."

❖❖❖

A few days had passed since Dib eavesdropped on that transmission connected with an alien prisoner. Even if Zim had gotten another package, a ship still remained to be seen. Dib had even attempted to get a peek in through the top window, but there were just empty boxes sitting up there. The new vehicle was probably being stored underground, deep inside the twisted maze of the alien's base.

However, that was just another conclusion the young paranormal investigator had filed away.

Although, there were a few small changes he had noted about Zim after paying closer attention. The bags under the alien's eyes never did seem to completely fade away. His mood had also seemed unpredictable, he'd come to learn while they sat in detention. Yesterday, he had completely ignored every insult Dib had thrown at him, which was risky considering Mr.Kramps had almost sent him underground for talking too much.

But then the day before that, Zim kept threatening to choke him by shoving paper down his windpipe until he 'goes blue in the face and dies'.

It wasn't like the pattern was new, because Zim had these weird mood swings ever since he trashed his spaceship, but Dib hadn't actually noticed all the mannerisms that came with it until now. On the days where the alien was especially volatile, his movements were sluggish and his green skin had a lighter shade to it. Almost as if the alien had been struggling with keeping up his appearance.

And at times, it seemed like he was in pain or something…

But that wasn't the only thing Dib started noticing. After the whole taco place discovery, he had also tracked Zim there a couple more times and found him ordering large servings of nachos, or pick up something for his robot. He also noticed that Zim would smuggle what looked like Fun Dip into detention and snack on it while staring out the window.

Not only that, but his monitoring system also continued to record more odd behaviors, so when Dib had noticed Zim leaving his house this morning, a Saturday of all days, he had to follow. He trailed the alien into a small establishment a few miles away, and stayed hidden behind the different aisles. As his enemy pulled stuff off the shelves, he could have sworn Zim winced when he had to reach up high.

However, the items that he grabbed had been _full _of carbs. Sweet or savory, it was mostly just junk. And a lot of it too.

The alien was clearly stocking up, and just as calmly as he came into the store, he also walked quietly to the counter. There was a bored, yet tired, expression on his face. But even so, he stood there, and when it was his turn, he pulled out a plastic pay card.

_Obviously a fake…_

Yet, Zim's purchase went through, and the alien silently marched out the doors with plastic bags in his hands.

Dib stayed close behind, eyeing the bags. At a glance, most people would just assume it was just a kid carrying a large junk food haul from the local convenience store, but he was better than most people. So the question that came to mind was if the snacks were for Zim himself, or for his screamy little robot?

He pulled out his camera and crouched behind a bush. With careful fingers, he removed the lense cap and zoomed in on Zim. There were a few quick snaps, and he ended up with at least a few photos he could study later. But now, his enemy was about to turn out of view onto the next street, so Dib needed to stay on the move.

Placing the camera away, he got up and quickened his pace. He turned the corner to catch up with the alien, but then his shin banged against something. The next thing he knew, Dib was flat on his face, his briefcase had slid out of his grip.

_Ouch._

He lifted his head up and found Zim glaring down over him, the grocery bags had been deposited on the grass next to the sidewalk. Great, so he was tripped, which meant his enemy knew he had been following him.

"You really are stupid."

"Hey, I'm not stupid!" Dib barked back as he got up and wiped himself off.

"Oh, you aren't?" Zim questioned, his voice grated with great ire. "You spend all your free time following me around and what do you have to show for it?"

Dib held his tongue, realizing that he had stumbled upon one of Zim's more foul moods. He decided that he wasn't going to fall for the baiting. In return, his enemy sized him up, anger creeping onto his face from the lack of a vocal response.

"Nothing. You have absolutely nothing to show for any of it. You may have gotten in my way in the past, but _tell_ me, was it really worth it?"

"The Earth is still here," Dib finally remarked, standing tall against the jabs.

Zim spread his arms out, his face twisted with disgust. "That's right, this wretched ball of filth is still here. And not only that, but you're still here, acting out your foolishness with the hope that it'll someday earn you some respect."

Dib folded his arms over his chest and refused to acknowledge that statement. He was going to become a great paranormal investigator, no matter what anyone had to say about it.

The alien gave an exasperated sigh. "Well, I'm going to fill you in on some facts. Your classmates will always look down on you. Other humans will disregard with contempt. And your parental unit will always see you as a pathetic failure."

Oh, that was it.

"You have no right to talk about my Dad," Dib snapped back, stomping his heel against the concrete, "so take it back!"

Zim sneered back up at him with a gleam in his eyes."Aw, does hearing the truth hurt that much little Dib? Does it bother you that your _Dad_ will always see you for what you are? A defective child, unable to meet his expectations-"

Dib lunged at Zim, slamming him against the ground. "You don't know anything about me!" He snarled in his face.

"I know that you're weak," Zim retorted in a cold, bitter tone.

At the comment, heat flared in Dib's cheeks and he struck a fist down towards Zim's face. The punch connected with the alien's jaw, but he barely jerked in response. Dib gritted his teeth and threw another, but before it could stick, it was blocked by a strong clawed grip.

Zim dug the sharp tips of his talons into Dib's knuckles, causing him to grimace. He tried to twist his hand out of the hold, only for a small trickle of blood to run down against his skin.

_Crap!_

He glared down at his enemy, and found that he couldn't read Zim's expression. Instead of the burning rage behind those contacts he was used to, it was something more apathetic. As he tried to rip his fist back, Zim shifted and threw him off.

Dib scrambled backwards before jumping back to his feet. He shook his hand out, the droplets of crimson flew off as he prepared himself. Zim brushed himself off, his face scrunched as specks of dirt fell from the tunic.

Taking advantage of the opening, Dib closed the distance between them and swung a left hook. Zim ducked last second and delivered a kick to his stomach, but Dib held his ground. He inhaled sharply and pulled back as he dodged yet another kick.

He _refused_ to go down, determination set ablaze in his amber eyes.

"Look at you, constantly looking for a fight," Zim taunted, his jagged teeth bared, " Always something to prove, huh, Dib-stink?"

"Man, you must really like hearing yourself talk!" He retorted as he side-stepped another strike.

The comment only served to annoy Zim even more, his attacks becoming more exaggerated. Dib had to keep moving. He couldn't afford to be caught by those claws again, the blood dribbling across his knuckles serving as a reminder.

As Dib lept backwards to avoid a sweeping swipe, his balance was thrown off as a plastic bag slipped under his toe. He swiveled, regaining his stance as the sound of chips crunched beneath him.

"Really? I just bought those!"

Oh nice, he just found a trigger point. He smiled deviously, looking at his enemy straight in the eye as he kicked another bag of snacks. "Oops!"

"That's it!" Zim screeched as wildly charged towards him.

Dib was barely able to dodge, pivoting on his heel right before Zim's talons made contact with his face. They scraped against the glass of his lense, leaving a deep, thin cut.

But he didn't have time to get upset over it, having to kick Zim as he got in too close.

Zim recovered, and in a brief flash, threw another set of punches. For each strike, Dib was barely able to knock them away, acting in complete defense. His lungs felt like they were on fire as the fight continued to drag. Each breath was barely enough, and his energy was draining fast.

His enemy was relentless, leaping at him at every chance with claws aimed towards vital points. Yet, none of the strikes had met their marks. Then again, he also wasn't using any weapons, or even his mechanical legs.

And if he decided to pull them out…

Dib needed to end it before that happened.

In an act of desperation, he rolled into an attack, letting Zim grab into his right shoulder. He gritted his teeth at the sharp pain, but before the alien could drag him down, he grasped onto the thin arm and twisted. An ear-splitting screech ruptured from Zim's throat as Dib gained the advantage and tugged harder.

There was a sharp _snap! _as something in the arm cracked, bringing his enemy to his knees.

He released his hold and delivered a swift kick aimed at Zim's stomach. His enemy lurched forward, emptying the contents of his guts. Dib grimaced at the display. A moment passed as the alien wiped his face with the sleeve of his tunic.

"Finish it, _human_," Zim spat, his face washed over with resignation.

Dib pulled out the handcuffs and stood over his enemy. The fight had been far too easy. Usually he got his ass handed to him in a one-on-one fight with the alien, but something was off…

Everything he'd thrown at him had far less force behind it than usual. Dib hardly sustained any real injuries. It was as if his heart hadn't been in it at all.

Even so, despite all of that, he was still the enemy.

Yet, as Dib stood there, listening to Zim's labored breathing, he could only feel something akin to pity. Just as then alien had said, he'd followed close behind and watched him for years. Even if Zim had spewed out some awful words to get under his skin, he hasn't done any real harm lately.

If anything, he had been minding his own business… Going to the convenience store for some snacks...

And that was what Dib was saving the Earth from?

Usually, his victories tasted magnificent. But this? This just felt _wrong._

"Well, what are you waiting for? I said finish it."

Dib narrowed his eyes down at Zim and twisted his lips. Then glancing back down at the handcuffs, he inhaled deeply and tossed them aside.

"No."

"_No_?" Zim asked incredulously.

Dib turned away and stared at his trembling, bloodstained hand. He was letting a once in a lifetime opportunity go, but… maybe he had wasted so much time on all of this. If Zim, or his kind, had _really_ wished for it, then the Earth would have been gone already.

There must've been more to the story, as the enemy he knew wouldn't just accept defeat like that.

_Gaz was right… What have I been doing with myself all this time?_

❖❖❖

Zim stared up at the human's back. His insides twisted at the show of unwarranted act of _mercy _his nemesis had displayed. So now he wasn't even good enough for an honorable defeat?

Well, that was Dib's mistake.

Gathering up his strength, Zim pushed himself to his feet. He cradled his twisted arm and sucked in a breath of air. Dib hadn't even paid him any attention, too absorbed in whatever thoughts were in that large head.

_How dare he turn away from me? _

He clenched his jaw and took a small step forward, closing the distance between him and the enemy. Then ever so quietly, a PAK leg unfolded out of its compartment. He brought the deadly tip just short of Dib's back.

A simple stab through the heart would be sufficient enough.

And then Dib wouldn't be there to bother him anymore.

So if that were the case, then why hadn't he done it yet? He'd been standing there for at least thirty seconds, completely unnoticed. Zim wasn't going to get another easy chance like this at killing the earthen child…

But did he actually _want_ to?

Tension ran up his spine as the PAK leg began to quiver in suspense. Zim tried to will it to move, to deliver the fatal blow, but it wouldn't budge forward even an inch. Killing Dib meant killing the one being who actually took him seriously. The one person who had respected his skills.

If anything, Zim at one point, had actually grown quite fond of their little battles.

At the very thought, the spider-like appendage dropped to the ground, sending a loud clang through the air. Dib jumped and spun around to see what had happened. Zim hunched forward with pure horror in his eyes. Bile bubbled in his throat.

D-Did he actually feel some respect towards the revolting human?

Impossible!

Irkens aren't supposed to feel any sort of _fondness_ towards other creatures. In fact, they were superior and had no need for such weak, sappy emotions… The reason invaders had never made friends was because they were far above such trivial nonsense.

However, if that were the case, then what had Zim just thought?

_This is wrong. So very, very wrong._

"Were you just planning on stabbing-"

"G-get out of my sight." Zim interrupted as he took an unsteady step back.

The human's hand reached out towards him."But!"

"If you want to live to see another crappy day, then you'll leave." The PAK leg rose back up and the sharp, pointed tip rested against the bridge of Dib's glasses. "I will make sure not to hold back this time."

Zim's straightened, uncurling his arm while ignoring the protesting agony from the movement. He couldn't afford to let Dib see such weakness from him, and so, the PAK leg remained still as his breath held.

"Fine." Dib receded, putting some space between him and the metal limb."See if I ever show you mercy again."

"I didn't ask for it," Zim replied in a bitter tone.

"Yeah, well I…" Dib's voice faltered, his expression fell to match.

Then his shoulders slumped forward. There was clearly something he'd wanted to say, but instead, he focused his gaze to that weird case with the white symbol on it. Zim watched as the dirt-child moved over to it and shoved his bloodstained hand in the coat of his jacket.

"Dib," Zim said, finally breaking the heavy silence.

"What?" the human snapped back at him.

"This," he muttered, pointing at the blooming discoloration around his jaw, "...consider us even."

Dib's amber eyes went wide at the comment. He murmured a 'whatever' as he collected his case off the ground. Then as he skulked away, Zim glanced back at the scattered grocery bags in the grass. Most of them were covered in mud with the packaging of his snacks torn up.

Well, all that shopping had gone to waste. Just perfect.

He didn't even bother to collect his ruined haul. _I'll just let the mangy scavengers have them, _he thought to himself meekly, dragging his feet in the direction of his base. There was a faint tingling sensation in the tips of his fingers as the painkillers from the PAK had started to kick in. But he still felt sick to his stomach, his body cold and so, so achy.

The dose wasn't acting as quick as Zim would have liked. Perhaps he had developed too high of a tolerance for them now? At this point, that was a very likely possibility. However, he found the entire situation utterly pathetic, and shouldn't have even needed them in the first place.

_How could I let this happen? Was I really about to throw my life away?_

Wasn't he finally free of all control? So then why? Why on Irk was he about to allow himself to become imprisoned in another wretched system?

How could he let a human, who barely had half of his strength, endurance, and a fraction of his combat training, overcome him? If a human, despite being his 'arch-nemesis', was able to bring him to his knees, then how could he expect to take on highly esteemed royal guards?

That's right… his plans were still only in the first phase.

His narrow-minded views had gotten him into his current situation in the first place. Now that the inhibitors were off, he needed to learn to think more critically.

So what if he was putting himself through physical torture by injecting himself with a compound his body hadn't been prepared for? So what if things had looked bleak at the moment? He'd been through far more hardships during his invader training, getting tossed around like a ragdoll day after day.

There were far bigger things in store for Zim, nevermind a menial life on Earth.

Red and Purple had their debts, and he was going to make sure he collected them… Even if it meant putting himself through more pain. He knew from the start that his choice wasn't going to be an easy one.

_I will never allow myself to give up like that ever again, for I am no one's prisoner..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, everyone! Thank you for reading this installment of Against the Machine. Again, I'm so sorry for the delay, but I was so burnt out over the holidays, and my motivation was drained in general. Trying to keep up a chapter week doesn't sound like a lot, but when you work full time and have other obligations to top it off, it can be I came to realize.
> 
> Last chapter wasn't something I was entirely proud of, so thank you to everyone who has followed this far. One of my goals for 2020 is to keep up on writing, as well as create more art, so this AU isn't going anywhere. In fact, I'm going to focus on quality rather than quantity and speed going forward
> 
> I want to give a special thanks to my dear friend John Smith for supporting me this whole time. They've been such a wonderful friend, providing words of encouragement and some sweet inputs. Seriously, I CANNOT thank you enough. I appreciate you so, so much.
> 
> To everyone who has left me comments or kind words on any chapter, I'm super grateful for the support. All of y'all are great :)


	8. Interlude

The roar of ship engines filled the air as they soared overhead. Side by side, many Irkens-soldiers-marched towards the front line. Excitement welled up in Zim's spooch as his beloved Tallests hunched over him as they prepared to give him his next assignment.

"You see this circle?" Red asked, indicating towards a large ring etched in the dirt.

"Yes, my Tallest!"

The crimson clad leader winced at the shrill reply. "Stand in it," he commanded in a firm tone.

Without a second thought, Zim found himself hopping inside. His antennae perked up, eyes glimmering with excitement. "So what's next?"

Purple rubbed the back of his neck as Red glanced at him expectantly. He sighed and put on a half-smile. "We need you to stay here. Don't move, this is a very important assignment. Do you understand?"

"I do," he replied with a salute. "I won't fail you, my Tallests."

"Good. See to it that you don't." Red commented, waving as both leaders turned away.

Zim could overhear their laughter, obviously from joy at how great he is. He could do this easily, and they would be even more joyous once the job was complete.

But then again, when would that be? When would they come to relieve him of his post? How was he to know when his mission was complete?

A strange tingle ran down his spine, sizzling down into his toes.

His head snapped left to right, then forward, his focus realigned. He wouldn't worry about such trivial things. Zim had been given a direct order, and he would know when it had been complete...

But as time stretched on, the restless need to please rose up as he glanced around at his surroundings. Battle mechs were bustling about, large and menacing. Various cruisers continued to fly in organized maneuvers, criss-crossing through the sky. And yet, the circle where he stood remained.

He was following orders as instructed.

Surely, his Tallests were pleased with him.

However, he hadn't heard from them in awhile. Maybe they needed him? What if they sent a soldier to fetch him, only to be taken by the enemy?

That's right! The _enemy_…

The Tallests had needed him in the front lines!

Without further thought, he rushed towards the Battle Mech that had been clearly set aside for him. The scene blurred around him as a heavy fog settled over his mind.

But then the next thing he knew, Zim found himself fallen to his knees on an elevated platform. Thousands of his fellow Irkens surrounded him. Each of their faces morphed into waves of green masses. As he tilted his head back, he was greeted with the view of the control brains looming above him. Their many mechanical eyes illuminated a deep red as a large monitor lowered beside them. A hard lump formed in his throat.

"DEFECTIVE!" the center brain boomed.

The word rattled his insides. He tried to move, but found that his arms were chained down. Weights held his legs against the platform. Cables were connected to his PAK, sending pulsing electric currents through him. He gritted his teeth as he was forced to look back at the monitor, dread filling him down to the core. A status bar of his face being thrown in a trashcan meant only one thing...

Zim's very existence was being deleted right then and there, in front of the entire empire. Out of a final act of desperation, a pleading scream tore from his throat.

Then with a sharp gasp, his eyes shot wide open, and the brain's decree became fast fading.

He couldn't help but glare up at the metallic ceiling from inside his pod. After hacking into his PAK, many repressed memories that had been holed up in quarantine played back in the form of dreams. They served as a painful reminder of how foolish he'd been in the past. Every time Red and Purple gave him an order, it was to humiliate him and keep him under wraps…

The trial had happened, he could no longer deny… And they had obviously set him up…

He clicked his tongue and propped himself up. There was no point in moping over recollective data. After all, Zim knew he was "defective", but yet, still very much alive.

_How unfortunate for The Almighty Tallests_, he thought with a bitter snicker.

Letting out a large yawn, he wiped the sleep from his eyes and began his preparations for the day. He grimaced as the coarse material of his wig scraped against his antennas. Then the itchy, bothersome contacts had to go in.

At least his arm felt somewhat better, since the damage the Dib-human caused had been completely repaired. However, the rest of the joints in his body still ached, and he felt an unshakable fatigue due to his treatments.

But no matter, he was just grateful the rest of his week had been without incident.

Which was a miracle, considering GIR's love of antics...

After releasing a weary sigh, he headed up towards the ground floor. He still had some time before he had to leave, but he needed to make sure everything else was in check. Snacks were a good idea, and he really needed the letter in his hand before he walked out the door. Zim couldn't afford another single day of punishment.

For the sake of his sanity, at least.

Speaking of which, while he was in detention today, he could plan a schedule for the week. The last shipment should be in by the end of the night, so that project could be started during the weekend. Heck, he could even go to the moon base tonight and test out the personal training simulation room he set up recently.

Perhaps the day wouldn't be that bad…

Oh who was he trying to fool? Skool sucked. If it wasn't for the sake of needing to keep appearances, he would ditch.

"Stupid DCF," he hissed right before he stepped through the hatch to the house's living room.

But then again, the Earthen Authorities weren't the only things he was concerned about. If he were to skip, then the _Dib_ would show up at his house again, and it was hard enough dealing with his stalking habits. He inhaled deeply and allowed for the brief rush of anger to subside.

Getting worked up over the simple, annoying actions of a human wasn't worth it. A waste of his energy, really.

So how many times was he going to have to remind himself of that?

"Nyah!"

Zim turned his attention to his purple minion who'd floated into the room. A white envelope glided right over to him, and he plucked it right out of the air. It was sealed, but he could feel the weight of the amount of papers that were stored within. It would suffice.

"Thanks, Minimoose." He tucked the assignment away into his PAK for storage. "Right on time too."

The little purple moose gave a happy squeak and floated over to the couch, then switched on the morning 'news'. A small chuckle passed Zim's lips as he headed towards the kitchen. Earthen news stations were a joke, pathetically funny, so it was no wonder his minion indulged in it once in a while.

Minimoose was the smart one out of all his minions. Gathering intel on the world around them while getting a laugh out of it was killing two birds with one stone. GIR could learn a thing or two from him.

Setting aside the thought for now, he turned his attention back to the cabinet where his snacks were stored away. He reached up to grab some chips out of his stash, but the moment he stretched himself up on his toes, he winced at the sharp pinch in his calves.

_Eh perhaps, the training room would be a bad idea for tonight. I should just stick with upgrading stuff while I wait for the shipment…_

A defeated sigh passed his lips as he stored the snack away alongside the letter. Oh well, he might as well get a move on and get the day started. He walked past the droning television and gave Minimoose a slight wave good-bye.

❖❖❖

Dib sulked into detention for what he hoped would be the final time. He immediately looked up at Coach, who was at the front of the room waiting for him. Zim had already beat him to the classroom, which he'd figured after not seeing him outside, again.

He pulled the assignment out of his bag and handed it to the teacher without a word. Then he stole a glance over at Zim, briefly making eye contact before he turned away. He was about to open his mouth, but thought better of it with the teacher standing right over him. Coach grunted and snapped the envelope onto a clipboard, right over the one that had already been there.

"I will be back later to dismiss you. Just… behave. It's the last day."

Dib said nothing as the teacher exited the room, keeping the bitter resentment at bay.

What kind of statement was that? _Behave_? As if he did anything wrong in the first place!

Taking his usual seat, Dib slumped down over the desk and folded his arms. He scowled at the alien sitting beside him. Zim hadn't said a single word to him since their fight. Not a single one. Instead, he'd thrown up emotional barriers, facing only the window during the past week. He'd been completely self-absorbed in his own thoughts, and had refused to respond to any of Dib's grabs for attention.

In fact, Dib even tried to catch the alien before school the last few days. Maybe if he had caught him off guard, then he could've actually figured things out. Some of the layers of the mystery could have been peeled back.

But no such luck….

And honestly? He'd half expected for Zim to come after him, seeking revenge for snapping his arm like a twig… But there had been none of that. No bursting through his window at night. And there hadn't been any signs of evil robots after his blood.

It was unsettling, to say the least.

Still, he did feel a bit bitter about having to spew a bunch of crap on paper for the so-called 'assignment.' Although, he would be lying if he wasn't curious to know what was written on the copy Zim gave to Coach. What nonsense was the enemy able to come up with after almost murdering Dib the moment his back was turned?

He groaned as the clock began to tick on, waiting for the sweet release from the long ass detention sentence. If he could help it, he never ever wanted to come back here again. The whole ordeal had been almost as bad as the _one_ afternoon in the underground classroom.

And that was saying a lot, from Dib's point of view.

Pulling out his notepad, he started scribbling down different sets of observations. Everything from how Mr. Kramps was dozing off behind his car magazine to the amount of dust scattered through the air. If anything, note taking was one the very few things that kept him sane. Sure, he completed his make-up assignments with ease, but they weren't enough to fill the void of absolute boredom.

Besides, the room and his thoughts weren't the only things he would write about.

He'd jotted down quite a few things about Zim too.

Looking back over towards him, Dib noticed that the wig looked a bit disheveled again. His skin was still that pale, dull hue. The back of Zim's head was facing him, so he had to lean to the side to see his features reflected in the dingy window. The alien's face was void of emotion, as if he'd mentally checked out.

_So basically, same thing, just a different day_, Dib commented to himself.

He took another glance and paused. Zim's eyes were closed, and his shoulders had begun to sag. Had he just fallen asleep? Again?

Dib flipped through the pages in his pad, checking over previous notes. This was the third consecutive day in a row that Zim had fallen asleep. If it weren't for witnessing it with his own eyes, he wouldn't have believed the alien had rested so much.

Sure, Zim had taken naps here or there in their normal classes, but Dib could always tell he was semi-alert, ready to hop to action. What he was currently witnessing was a much deeper slumber than something to pass the time. Was he still recovering from their battle?

He scoffed. There was no way he caused that much damage.

So then was Zim sick?

He worked through various theories on paper on what could be ailing the alien. Scratching out notes or making annotations where it was needed. Each page filled with a thought or a counter argument. Yet, he couldn't quite clearly connect the dots. The only thing that _seemed_ to make sense was some kind of illness special to Zim's species, but even then that didn't explain a lot of other things on the side.

Then before Dib knew it, he heard the soft click of the classroom door. He glanced up at the clock and saw that it was about time to be dismissed.

_Man, the day actually flew right on by_.

There were at least an additional two dozen pages in his notepad that had been filled since the day had started. Sure he'd have to refine it later, but Dib was just happy to have plenty of data, whatever kind it may be, on hand.

"Zim, wake up," Coach snapped, his arms folded over his chest.

The alien jerked awake and immediately wiped the drool from his cheek. His false purple pupils were dilated, and his shoulders tensed up. While Dib put his notes away, he'd half paid attention as Zim meekly apologized and stared down at something in his hands. His brows were knitted together.

Dib tried to peer over to see what held Zim's attention, but Coach stepped right in front of him. The teacher held out a white envelope, offering for him to take it. But the moment the heavy letter was in his hand, Dib noticed the seal hadn't been broken. He flipped it over and saw what seemed to be Zim's neatly scrawled penmanship addressed to him.

"So if you weren't going to check them, what was even the point?" He asked as he slid out of his desk

"Oh, I checked off that you two did them," the burly teacher remarked. "I never said I was going to _read_ them. Whatever's going on, that's for both of you to settle. This was just a starting point."

_Yeah, that's rich_, Dib thought to himself silently as he shoved the envelope in his pocket. _Starting point? I've been trying to work out Zim's deal for months..._

Zim shuffled up beside them, his eyes looking straight up at their teacher expectantly. "Can we please leave now, Coach-teacher, Sir?" he asked in that creepy, practiced polite tone.

"Yes, you boys are dismissed."

Dib watched as Zim sped out the door, leaving him behind without so much as a comment or sneer. The two of them had spent an entire month in detention, and yet, he was already starting to feel like it had all been some weird dream.

Was Zim going to go back to being his hated arch-nemesis on Monday? Bringing some experiment to class to try and take over the planet? Or had that version of him really been left behind for good?

He felt foolish for wondering such things, especially after their last encounter, but Dib couldn't help it. They had been enemies for years.

And they still were.

At least, as far as he could tell.

Zim had thought about stabbing him in the back. Literally. But it wasn't like he could take it too personally. How many times had Dib turned against Zim in the past? Sure, the alien had deserved it. He was invading their world.

However, despite all of that, Zim hadn't gone through with the action.

In fact, the Irken even had gone as far to say they were even…

The envelope tucked away in his pocket felt heavy as he navigated his way through the school halls, trying his hardest not to bump against fellow students. With each step, his feelings on the situation became more muddled as the desire to read the letter consumed him. Honestly, he needed to sit down and sort out his thoughts once he got home. Read the letter, then look through his notes.

Yeah, that was a solid plan.

For now, at least...

❖❖❖

Leaves had turned colors, then finally, began to fall. The change had signaled the coming of winter, bringing a change of temperature and moods.

Deep in the bowels of his base, Zim was sprawled out beneath the body of his new cruiser, working on the engine. It took longer than he would have liked, but he had everything he needed to get the ship in order. Beside him, he had a projection of the blueprints displayed, and next to that, a half-eaten doughnut with some crumbs.

His fingers worked to hook wires to their connectors; a task that required much concentration. He spent many hours making sure that each section of the engine was done right. The spark plugs were important, but once he was done with that, he needed to check the valves and the bearings.

As he mentally ran through the checklist, he hooked the last wire and noticed the stiffness in his shoulders. He flopped his arms back down and stared up at his handiwork. It looked pretty good to him. Nothing looked loose or out of place.

However, the urge to move around started clawing at him, so he crawled out from the underbelly of the ship and grabbed the rest of his snack. He was starting to finally get used to his new routine of sleeping, and he made sure to be mindful to consume more nutrients.

It only took some odd weeks to adjust, all the while fighting against a century instilled lifestyle.

So while his stable routine was something, Zim _still_ had difficulties with aches and soreness.

Despite that, he couldn't continue to act like a smeet and let his skills deteriorate. Allowing all that military training to go to waste would only set him back even further. With that in mind, he looked back at the ship and decided to call it a day.

"Computer, make sure you remind me to work on the valves and bearings first thing tomorrow when I get back from skool."

The lights in the room flickered. "But I don't want to," the AI said in its droned out tone.

Zim shot a heated glare over at the monitor. "Are you talking back to me again?"

"Nnnngh, okay fine. Don't get your panties in a twist, Sir."

"My what?" he grounded out.

"Nothing"

"Better be nothing." Zim sighed and shook his head. "Irk, you're moody today."

The computer grunted but said nothing more. Zim silently cursed the machine under his breath as he made his way to the teleport pads. He stepped right onto the pad that connected to the Moon Base and was zapped away in a flash, soon finding himself in a completely different chamber.

There was a faint smile as he looked out the large window across from him. Miles upon miles of stars were scattered, heading towards the deep void.

Soon, he would be able to fly freely.

He allowed himself one more moment to enjoy the view, then headed into the simulation room. The large spherical room was reoutfitted specifically for his needs. Everything from target dummies, to practice robots, to even scenario sequences. Most of them are based on the simulations he went through during his training years.

Once he made his way to the center, he began a series of stretches. He disregarded the tiresome protests of the fibers in his muscles. With each movement, the tension eased up, until he felt satisfied enough with the level of movement.

Then as a small smirk found its way on his face, Zim leaned forward and reached behind his back. The two lower ports in his PAK opened up and he gripped onto a pair of handles stored within a nook inside. With a fluid motion, he withdrew two plasma blasters out from their respective compartments. He snapped them forward, and he tested their weight in his hands, noticing that they felt somewhat sturdy within his grasp.

But then with a gleam in his eye, he began to examine the craftsmanship of each weapon. He had used scrapped spare parts to create them, using the best alloys he had on hand. Even with slight limitations, he managed to get them to look similar-almost as if they were brother and sister in make. They were a metallic lavender color with large rounded muzzles. The plasma chamber glowed a bright violet, a trait that Zim found special.

Hopefully he managed to fix the heatsink, and the temperature stabilizer, because the last thing he needed was for his precious new munitions to blow up. But eh, it should be fine.

Probably.

The only way he'd know was to test them, so he rolled his shoulders and stood straight. "Computer, start training sequence 1-90-12," he commanded in an eager tone.

A loud groan of annoyance echoed within the room as a red tint washed over the walls. Zim readied himself, his antennae perked upward to detect just the slightest bit of movement. There was a small hiss, and he quickly swiveled on his heel as one of his dummy bots came wheeling towards him from behind. He took aim and released a swift shot; the flash of purple streaked across the chamber.

The robot went down as the heated plasma struck its face, but just barely. Zim sucked his teeth with agitation as he dodged a shot aimed at him. It whizzed right over his head, and he retaliated firing another round of his own at the offender. The strike hardly singed the target, and instead, swerved.

"Looks like someone's rusty," Computer chimed as oversized metallic claws descended from their ceiling compartments.

"Nonsense!" Zim snapped back.

There was no way he was going to let such an easy training sequence get the best of him. Zim was not 'rusty'. He'd always performed well with these simulations!

However, yet another one of his shots had almost missed its intended target. He'd been hoping to hit the dummy square in the chest instead of the shoulder. So it had taken two blasts, instead of one, to bring it down.

_Perhaps I have relied a little too much on luck before,_ he noted, rolling out of the way of a claw that nearly snatched him from above. He ignored the irritation in his shoulders and paid attention to the entrance that opened in the wall.

More robots filed into the room, one after the other. Then, Zim found himself standing before a line of them as they prepared for their attack. The corners of his lips curled upward as PAK legs unfurled around him.

This was about to get fun.

A mere second later, the line split in two and flanked him from each side. With the assistance of his PAK, he vaulted into the air and grasped onto the ceiling. The legs suspended him steadily as he fired off a barrage, raining down purple plasma on the targets below. The attack took out half, while the rest scattered out. But then the giant claw came for him again, so he had to move, and propelled himself back down to the ground.

As he fumbled into a hard landing, a sharp pang shot up his thigh. Zim gritted his teeth as he lunged sideways to avoid the swift strike of one of the robots. Even though he thinned their ranks, there were enough bots to surround him.

After regaining his footing, he lifted his blasters once more as they circled in closer. Each bot was equipped with a nasty taser that would surely put him out of commission at just the slightest bit of contact. The guns began to feel heavy in his hands as the muscles in his arms protested.

If there wasn't an opening, then he would just have to force one.

With a steady aim, he discharged a couple of rounds in succession and took out two bots in front of him. He did his best to ignore the twinge from the recoil and used his PAK to scurry out of the fray, putting distance between them.

Then once each bot was within his line of sight, he deployed additional blasters from his PAK and aimed the ones in his hands at the targets. He fired all of his weapons simultaneously, leaving no room for openings. The attacking bots all collapsed where they stood, electric sparks springing forth.

He heaved a breath of relief as the red lighting faded.

"Simulation complete," the Computer announced as the claws began to clear away the trashed robots.

"Transfer all recording data to my pad immediately so that I may study it."

"'Kay."

Zim frowned at the computer's tone once more, but shrugged it off. His attention shifted back to the blasters. The light danced along the edge of the frames as he lifted them. Honestly, he was rather pleased. They hadn't blown up in his face and packed quite a punch.

However, the weapons did need some adjustments. The rate of fire could be improved, and he needed to do something to soften the recoil. Both of them could use some balancing as well to make sure the weight felt even in his grip after prolonged use.

Nonetheless, he fancied these guns made by his own two hands. They were, in his superior opinion, far nicer than anything ever issued to him for close combat. These wouldn't end up as pieces of junk that would be tossed aside or trashed.

Not like him.

A PAK leg slid out from its port and took hold of one of the guns. Then an etching tool found its way into his newly freed hand. There was a grin on his face as he carved letters into the side of the slightly larger blaster, right below the chamber. He repeated the process on the smaller of the two.

Once he was satisfied, he deposited the tool back into his PAK. He then held the blasters firmly, eying their new engravings. They would serve him well, Spencer and Maria. With a beaming smile, he carefully stored them away in their specialized compartments.

He had enough excitement for one day. His body was already starting to feel drained, and he still needed to take his next shot. The thought of it made him groan, since his arms felt abused as it were. Not only that, but his legs ached… and his feet.

While he'd chosen to ignore it, he had started feeling aches and cramps from his toes as of late. They felt worse at night, especially if he'd been standing or walking a lot. But during the simulation, he was more concerned with his arms and shoulders. After all, what was the point in worrying about one more cumbersome ache?

However after maneuvering around with all the hopping, dodging, and rolling around, he was _really_ starting to feel the discomfort within his boots.

So without further delay, he carried out his normal routine. Grabbed a snack and had some quick sips of a Classic Poop. Then he headed over to the medical ward and begrudgingly administered his daily dose. All of this had been done in under twenty-five minutes.

But still, he had to make it to his pod. He really didn't want to collapse in the lab. Every time that happened, he ended up with an _awful_ kink in his neck.

Zim headed towards his private quarters, running through different tasks in his mind. Even in his exile, he was keeping busy, which rather pleased him. He ran through a mental checklist of the tasks for tomorrow.

Skool. Ship. Weapon calibrations. And everything in between.

Anything to keep his mind off the aches, but to no avail.

With each step, the boots only put pressure against the side of his feet. He was thankful his quarters were easily accessible from all directions of the base as he stumbled inside. Once he finally made it to his pod, he sat down onto it and ripped each of the footwear off.

His talons felt relief as the cool air hit them, and thankfully, they were blister free. As he stretched and wiggled them, he started to pay attention to the finer details. He hadn't noticed it before, Zim could swear they appeared to be longer.

Not only that, but the base of the foot itself was wider….

However, a wide grin appeared on his face as he noticed something else above his feet. His pant leg didn't fully cover his ankles, and instead, a small sliver of skin was exposed.

His treatments were working after all!

"VICTORY FOR ZIM!" He cheered, his arms raised skywards.

Then he flopped backwards, letting the soft cushion lining catch him. A small laugh escaped his lips as the smile remained.

_I suppose I'll need to get a different pair of boots_, he silently noted.

But that could wait until tomorrow… He was exhausted.

❖❖❖

Dib couldn't help but stare intently at the back of Zim's head. His lips set in a hard frown, and he was absent-mindling pushing his lunch around on a styrofoam tray.

He would have figured after all these weeks since their scuffle, Zim would have gotten sick of not rubbing things in his face. The egomaniac hadn't talked his ear off or boasted about some grand plan at all.

In fact, if he didn't know better, Dib would say the alien was avoiding him.

But he _did_ know better.

And frankly, this was completely different than the silent treatment he'd received months prior. Every time they made even the briefest of eye contact, Zim would turn his head away and focus his attention on something else.

Whatever the reasoning, it irritated Dib far more than being outright ignored. He still hadn't worked out the details of what was going on. It hurt his pride as a paranormal investigator. But maybe a different approach would work.

Right, working from a different angle.

Like talking.

"Okay, that's it," Dib huffed as he set his spork down.

"Hm?" Gaz looked up from her game with a curious look in her eye.

He picked up his tray and shrugged. "I'm finally going to take your advice."

"Oh. Well good luck, I guess," she murmured as he walked away.

Dib carried his food over to Zim's table and sat it down directly across him. The alien was hunched over his tablet while sucking on a candied stick, preoccupied with his work.

Or so it had seemed.

"What do you want now?" Zim asked in annoyance as he dipped the white stick into some purple powder.

Dib eyed the device. That stupid thing was another puzzle piece he hadn't managed to work out yet. He had taken note of the fact Zim was on it at every opportunity, despite almost losing usage privileges over a dozen times. His skin condition excuse could only get him so far with the patience of their teachers. So whatever it was, the Irken was really dedicating his time and attention.

But that wasn't why he came over here. He would have to find another day to unpack that, given as long as Zim remained 'harmless'.

Dib took a deep deep breath before propping his chin against his right palm. "So did you mean everything you wrote in that letter?"

"Hah?" Zim glanced up in confusion. He blinked after a mere moment, realization seemingly apparent, then he clicked his tongue and looked back at his tablet. "Oh, I had Minimoose write that for me."

"Hey, that's cheating!"

"So?" He shrugged while keeping his eyes down. " Writing it would have been a _waste_ of my time."

Dib shouldn't have been surprised, after all, what else did he expect from someone like Zim? He rolled his eyes, even though the alien couldn't see it. "Well, did you at least read what I wrote?"

Zim sighed deeply before jotting something else. "No."

"Why not?" Dib folded his arms over the table and leaned in closer. " Weren't you at least somewhat curious?"

"I don't care to know about anyone's thoughts or opinions about me," he stated matter of factly.

"But-"

Zim held his free hand up, interrupting Dib. "Look, if you want praise or validation for some nice, flowy words, then look elsewhere. You won't be getting it from me."

"That's not-just, never mind," Dib muttered quietly, before shoveling into his mashed potatoes.

"So are you done here?" Zim grumbled as he began to draw over some sort of diagram displayed on the tablet.

"Actually, I was wondering…"

He paused, taking a moment to stare at the image. It was hard to tell what it was upside down, but it _looked_ like a weapon. Okay, that was kind of sketchy-

No wait, he was getting distracted!

Zim huffed, clearly his patience was wearing thin. "Just spit it out."

"It's just…" Dib had begun to say, before swallowing down another deep breath, "Why didn't you kill me that day? You had so many openings to do so."

The scribbling came to a halt. Dib braced himself, anticipating an outlash of words. Instead, Zim hummed and resumed working, as if he hadn't missed a beat. "There was nothing to gain from it, so don't overthink it."

_Nothing to gain? Really?_

"Uh, huh. Sure," Dib remarked, stretching out the last syllable. He knew that was a load of bull.

"I'm serious. Actually, would you like me to kill you now?" Zim inquired, lifting his head up. The stylus was now pointed towards Dib's face.

"I'm good." He couldn't help but smirk at the fact he finally got Zim's full attention. Then to further ease the tension, Dib pointed at the purple package. "So, what kind of Fun Dip is that?"

The alien looked back at him as if he sprouted an additional head. "Fun-what?"

"Fun Dip. You know, a candy stick you shove into some flavored sugar?"

"This isn't merely just some candy. I'll have you know, this is an Irken _delicacy_."

Dib had to repress a laugh as he waved off Zim's sour expression. "Okay, okay. So it's an Irken candy?"

"Argh, no that's not-"

The bell rang, signaling the end of lunch. Dib gave Zim a half-smirk before collecting his tray up. "Whelp, time to get back to class."

The alien narrowed his eyes at him. "I'm well aware."

Dib merely nodded in response as he headed over to the trash bin, still processing their interaction. _I can't believe I just had an actual conversation with Zim without any screaming or name calling, _he thought to himself as he tossed the half-eaten food away.

He was honestly surprised. Was Zim still a little rude? Yeah, but that was still a lot better that the awful screeching he does.

However when he glanced back at Zim, who happened to be hanging behind as they strolled back to class, the alien had been staring at his feet. His lower lip was tucked behind his teeth, biting back some sort of apparent discomfort. With each step, he teetered, as if he were trying to roll into them with the least amount of weight possible.

That was also new behavior.

_Every day it's something new, isn't it?_ He turned back around and pinched between his eyes, trying to keep his curiosity underwraps. _Don't prod him too much. Take it by increments..._

Even if Dib had walked away from their last 'fight' rather unharmed, he knew it was because Zim had let him… but then again, it had gone both ways.

Still, if these past few months had taught him anything, it was to pick his battles wisely. All of his investigations were a bust because his ego got in the way or he got too short sighted.

If Zim wasn't taking over the Earth anymore, then the race turned into a marathon. One he considered to be an arduous challenge…

_But hey, progress is still progress_, Dib softly reminded himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Notes:
> 
> Hi Everyone, thank you so much for reading this chapter of Against the Machine. I haven't abandoned the fic, but I do apologize for such a delay in updates. To be honest, I actually rewrote it a couple of different times, and worked on the overall outline.
> 
> However, this was a bit interesting to write, as this chapter is setting up some of the parts that will follow. Heck, I'm still shocked that we're 8 chapters in, but I'm not sure how many this will end up being. There's still a lot more to tell and explore, and I'm excited for the journey ahead.
> 
> Thank you guys so much for leaving feedback and words of encouragement. Honestly, it keeps me motivated to go back and read some of the comments that were left on here. I appreciate it so much. You guys are great :)


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